The Stag and the Wolf (Revised)
by Skyrimfan
Summary: Jon Baratheon, the second son of Robert Baratheon is declared the true heir to the Iron Throne as per Robert's will but was usurped by his older brother Joffrey Baratheon while he was out hunting with Myrcella. Renly and Stannis rallies their men to his cause. Robb is on his way south with a great host. Riverrun is besieged. Tywin is disputed between his two grandsons.
1. Gathering of the Storm

**Full Summary:** Despite promising never to give life to a child with the hair of a Baratheon, Cersei Lannister ended up accepting a boy with brown hair into her life, it reminded her of a younger Robert but she could not bare to have him killed. The boy was Jon Baratheon, the second son of Robert Baratheon and the only child with brown hair, when he turned a certain age, he was taken to Casterly Rock alongside his sister Myrcella at the behest of Tywin Lannister. The Old Lion of the Rock wanted to groom Jon to be his next heir. For nearly six years, Jon and his sister were fostered under the care of their grandfather and were taught how to play the game. Yet despite the years spent in a Lion's Den, Jon still kept the tradition of being too honorable, but unlike Eddard Stark, he would do anything to ensure the safety of his family and loved ones.

When Jon was fifteen, he was betrothed to Arya Stark, the second daughter of Eddard Stark. The two were an instant match in heaven after Robert spotted them laughing and whispering quietly in the godswood away from the prying eyes of others. Arya had at first made a huge fuss about the betrothal contract and threatened to skin Jon alive if they were wedded, but she calmed down when she got to know him a little more better. As part of the contract and the deal of Eddard Stark being the Hand of the King, Arya along with her sister journeyed down to King's Landing to get a better understanding of the southron capital city. And no matter where he is, even when he's out hunting, trouble always seem to follow Jon Baratheon.

Character Ages:

Robb Stark, Joffrey - 16 years old

Theon Greyjoy – 17 years old

Sansa Stark – 15 years old

Arya, Myrcella – 12 years old

Jon Baratheon – 15 years old

Tommen, Bran – 10 years old

Rickon – 6 years old

The characters' ages are somewhat similar to the TV adaption (with the exception of Jon)

 **Chapter One: The Gathering of the Storm**

 **Outskirts of Bronzegate (Renly Baratheon's hunting camp)**

"Tell me this is not true."

"I'm afraid it's true, nephew." Renly Baratheon answered softly. He, himself could not believe that his brother was dead and Joffrey had usurped the throne before the body was even cold. Not only that, Lord Eddard Stark was accused of treason and thrown into the black cells, leaving the Warden of the North's fate at the hands of the Lannisters. He hated to admit it, but a war with the Lannisters is unavoidable. "Your older brother has taken the throne for himself with the backing of several Lannister men-at-arms during the night, when Lord Stark went to confront him in the morning, he had him arrested and ordered the execution of everyone that came with the Stark household. No one was spared. Not even the servants." He continued slowly.

"What about Arya and Sansa?"

"Lady Sansa is being held hostage at King's Landing and there has been no word of your betrothed, the reports are sketchy to say of late." Renly bit his tongue and waited for his nephew to nod. "The word is that she's still hiding within the slums of the city with dozens of goldcloaks searching for her." He stared at his nephew for a while and studied his reaction, the young Stag was fuming from head to toe and one could feel the heat resonating from the boy. Renly had to agree that his nephew is more Lion then Stag after being fostered at Casterly Rock at the behest of Tywin Lannister. Any of his thoughts were interrupted when a young girl with bright golden hair rushed in.

"Jon! Jon! Is it true? Did Joffrey order the arrest of Uncle Eddard?" The girl asked, almost on the verge of tears. "Why? Why would he do that? Did mother consent to that? Please tell me it's not true!"

"It's true Myrcella..." Jon sighed, hugging his little sister close to him. He gently stroked her back and whispered soft words of comfort and forced a smile, Myrcella only sobbed even harder and refused to let go of his tunic. Before leaving the Red Keep for his annual hunting game, Myrcella had ran into Jon and his retinue before they left the Great Hall and begged with him to let her come with, and argued they did about her safety. At the end it was her sweet green eyes that tore through his stern facade, not even the ever stoic Barristan Selmy could hold against her eyes. That thought only made his grip tighter around her shoulders. He turned his gaze towards his uncle. "Is there anything else?"

Renly nodded his head. "Our scouts have sighted a massive Northern host at least twenty thousand strong en-route to the Riverlands, being led by Lord Stark's eldest son. No doubt they are marching for the capital. To either answer Prince Joffrey's summons or give a show of brute force of the Northern military might, from what I know of the Starks...they will not bent their knees to someone that had just brutally murdered their own kinsmen." He paused and pondered for a moment before continuing. "Jon, give me three days and I can have the might of the Stormlands under your command. And with my marriage to the Tyrells, the might of the Reach can be yours too. Stannis will no doubt declare his loyalty to you, he was there when our brother made his decision to make you his heir instead of your brother. No matter what you decide, know that I stand by your side."

Jon closed his eyes and took a deep breath. He looked at Myrcella and saw the look in her eyes. No word needed to be said before the two siblings as he gave his answer. "Call the banners. Summon each and every single vassal lord under your command and order Lord Tyrell to do the same, have the men rally at Storm's End. I'll meet you there after I'm done here." Renly inhaled sharply before inclining his head and walking out to do his nephew's bidding. Jon watched intently as his uncle left the tent before calling the only two knights of the Kingsguard that were assigned to him by his father. "Ser Barristan. Ser Arys." The two said knights entered when called. "A war with the Westerlands might be inevitable and my sister is not safe with me on the field, once my uncles arrive with their host, I need you to protect her at Storm's End where she'll be safe." Myrcella looked ready to argue but one sharp look from her brother made her grumble about unfairness. "Will you do that for me?"

"We will do as you command, Your Grace." Ser Barristan reassured much to Jon's relief. "There is another thing, Your Grace." He shared a glance with his younger comrade before turning his hardy gaze towards his liege lord's son, the boy he had sworn to serve. "Lord Ralph of House Buckler has raised his House in support for your cause the moment the ravens arrived, he and his retainers are outside our encampment awaiting your orders." Jon looked startled by the news before nodding his head in acceptance.

"Do you have something in mind, Ser Arys?" Myrcella inquired softly, watching the young knight shifting uncomfortably from foot to foot. Both Jon and Ser Barristan turned to look at the youngest and latest member of the Kingsguard as of date.

"I do, Princess." Ser Arys answered as he regained his confidence. "It's more of a proposal. Our other brothers have sworn to serve the King of Westeros, whoever that is. In this case, it is the usurper, Prince Joffrey. No doubt the usurper has already replaced some if not all of the Kingsguard with his own people, with the support of the Queen regent." He stood to his full height. "It's clear that a war is inevitable with the usurper and his supporters, and His Grace needs all the help and protection he can receive. I am imploring you to hand-pick the best soldiers or knights from the Stormlands as your personal bodyguards on the field of battle." He continued.

"A generous thought, Ser Arys." Jon regarded the knight with a small grin. "Very well, I shall do as you say and speak with my uncle about this. I'm sure we'll come to some sort of arrangement. But in the mean time, I would really love to have you two on board as my guards."

"Our blades are yours to command, Your Grace." Ser Barristan spoke softly. "And if I may offer my own insights on this oncoming conflict, I sincerely hope you will consider negotiating an alliance with the Northerners. You are, in other words, betrothed to Lady Arya. I don't see why the North won't back your claim for the Iron Throne." He suggested.

Myrcella nodded her head eagerly. "Lord Robb seems like an honorable man, I'm sure he'll make the right decision. Besides, he did give Ghost as a gift during your fourteenth namesday..." Her eyes soon widened before she jumped up with joy. "I got it!" Everyone stared at her as if she was crazy. "Ice! We can use Ice! Uncle Eddard's sword. He gave it to me before we rode out."

"I meant no disrespect Princess." Ser Arys said slowly as he eyed the young girl. "How...in the seven hells did you get Lord Stark's ancestral sword?"

"Um..." Myrcella gulped and bit her lips. "I might have overheard Joffrey threatening to melt down Ice and add it to the Iron Throne, and I might have overreacted too much and went straight away to tell Uncle Eddard and I somehow convinced him to give it to me." She said. "For safekeeping." She quickly added and watched as two eyebrows went up as one excluding her brother, she sighed and pouted. "Don't believe me. Check the saddle on my horse."

Jon shook his head in amusement. "That's my sister..." He commented in between fits of laughter.

"When did the Princess learn to ride?" Ser Barristan asked, more curious than worried.

Jon smiled and folded his arms. "That's one of the benefits for being wards to the Old Lion of the Rock, grandfather totally doesn't give a shit to the rules of the court. 'If she wants to ride, I'll give her a horse. If she wants to fight, I'll give her a sword. One thing you must learn as my wards is that I am not like those fools down in King's Landing, I believe strongly that my grandchildren must learn how to fight and defend themselves from traitors and backstabbers.' Aye, that's what he told us on our first year at Casterly Rock, he was true to his word when he gave Myrcella a fully grown horse the following year and a sword the next." He said with a smirk that would rival Petyr Baelish tenfold.

"Does that mean Lord Tywin would support your claim?" Ser Arys inquired.

Myrcella shook her head immediately. "No. Grandfather will be forced by mother and Uncle Jaime to support the Iron Throne, but he is no fool. He'll probably order Lord Brax to declare for us or Lord Westerling of the Crag, one word from grandfather and they'll do his bidding even if it meant going against the throne." She stated confidently.

"We won't know if grandfather will back my claim for the Iron Throne, but there will no doubt be conflict inside the Westerlands. I know Ser Raynald Westerling, I trained by his side during my time at Casterly Rock whenever grandfather called his vassals for a summit. He'll stand by my side the moment the news reaches his ears." Jon stood to his full height, pulling Myrcella with him. "In the mean time, we should probably head for Storm's End where the might of my uncle's forces would rally. Have Lord Buckler and his men cover our rear as we make our move, we do not want any goldcloaks on our trail...knowing my brother, there is a high chance of them already riding out to find us."

"They won't lay a finger on you, Your Grace!" Ser Arys declared. "Not while I draw breath!"

"I appreciate your loyalty Ser Arys." Jon said with a grim smile before looking serious. "Prepare the horses at once. We ride for Storm's End." His hand reached out to stroke the fur of the white direwolf gifted to him by Robb as a token of friendship, Myrcella stood beside him with her eyes on Ghost, they shared a grim smile before stepping outside to face their destiny.

* * *

 **Opposite the Trident (Robb Stark's encampment)**

Robb Stark, the eldest son of Eddard Stark and heir to the lordship of Winterfell and Warden of the North stood at the opposite bank of the Trident with the might of the Northern host at his back. He had called the banners upon receiving the letter of his father's arrest written by his younger sister's hand, thirty thousand men from nearly every House had answered his summons, there was all but one obstacle remaining. To get his host across the Trident. For six hundred years, House Frey has held the Twins and for six hundred years, they have never failed to exact their tolls. The Twin towers of Frey is all that stands between Robb Stark and the Lannisters in the South. Time was running short. He knew that it was only a matter of time before the Lannisters take his father's head, he had to get his army across the Trident no matter the cost.

"Why isn't he allowing us to cross?" Robb demanded, his fists clenched at his side. "He's grandfather's bannermen! It's treason not to answer his lord's call to arms."

"You'll expect nothing of Walder Frey." Jon Umber otherwise known as 'Greatjon' said gruffly. "It's not that surprising really if you truly know the man. He and his retainers did not answer the call to arms when the Riverlords rose in support during Robert's Rebellion, they only arrived at the last moment when the battle was over and the river ran red with Targaryen blood. Was known as the late Lord Frey ever since." He explained.

"Father rots in a dungeon. How long before they take his head." Robb retorted with dark eyes and a cold gaze. "We need to cross the Trident and we need to do it now."

"Just march up to his gates and tell him you're crossing." Theon Greyjoy stated boldly. "We have five times his number. You can take the Twins if you want to." He suggested.

"Have my horse saddled and ready." Robb ordered.

"Enter the Twins alone and he'll sell you to the Lannisters as he likes." The Greatjon argued.

"Or throw you into a dungeon." Theon added. "Or slit your throat."

Robb shook his head. "I'm not entering alone." He stated softly. "Like what Theon said, I have more men than he has on his bridge. And if getting across the Trident meant butchering a few Freys, I would gladly do so. Theon, escort my mother to the rear and then return to my side." He watched as his brother in all but blood nodded before he turned around to face the northerners that marched with him all the way from Winterfell. "Men of the North! Hear me! Lord Walder Frey sits upon his towers and expects us to wait while the Riverlords are rallying to my grandfather's call, the longer we sit here and wait the Lannisters will burn Riverrun to the ground and the entire Riverlands will fall to the Westerlands. And your overlord. My father. Will die for crimes that he did not commit and the entire North will suffer for it. Is this the future you want for our kinsmen?" The answers were shouts and yells of denials from the gathered men. "I plan to storm the Twins and root the late Walder Frey for being an oathbreaker, who's with me?!" He asked and awaited the response. Some men stormed their spears on the ground while others raised their voices in agreement.

"Lead us my lord!" Chorused the northsmen.

"Take the bridge!" Cried another.

"Then in the name of my father, I bid you stand, men of the North!" Robb bellowed at the top of his lungs as he hurled himself onto the saddle of his horse. With one swift movement, his longsword was high in the air, he slowly pointed it downwards and yelled. "Come with me and take this bridge!" And with that the host began to advance. But the northsmen sang no more. _'For the North'_ they cried with one voice loud and frightening, and gathering speed like a great tide their battle swept across the bridge of the Twins.

The soldiers of House Frey were taken aback by the sudden assault of the Northern host that many were cut down where they stood before having a minute to sound the alarm. By the time they realized what was happening, it was already too late. With his direwolf, Grey Wind at his side, Robb Stark smashed down the doors leading to the Great Hall of the Twins, behind him marched Theon and several other knights and lords from the North. A member of House Frey attempted to stab him with a dagger from the side only to be cut down by Theon's sword, several others charged only to be met with the bloody steel of Robb's personal guards. In less than a minute, ten members of House Frey lay dead with their guts split open before the eyes of many.

"What is the meaning of this treason?!" The Lord of the Crossing spat angrily. "Barging into my castle and killing my sons. I can have you hanged for this!"

"If anybody is going to be hanged today, it's you Lord Walder." Robb replied coolly. "Last I heard, House Tully has called the banners of her vassals and you're the only one that didn't answer my grandfather's summons. That clearly makes you an oath-breaker."

"Oath-breaker is it!" Walder Frey seethed in anger as he stood to his full height. "I will not cower before you. Stark. Baratheon. Lannister. You can all go to the seven hells for all I care. Go on. Finish what you started." He took a step forward and laughed when Robb hesitated. "You may be in command of a large army but your compassion will lead you nowhere in Westeros, you're just like your father, an honorable fool trapped in the Lio-?!"

"SILENCE!" Robb growled as his blade separated Walder Frey's head from his body. It took a minute before he realized what he had done, but he didn't have time to feel sorry for himself. Walder Frey deserved it for speaking ill of his lord father. Surely the old gods would understand why he had to take an unarmed man's life away. Without another word, he lifted the head by the few strands of gray hair and stormed back outside, the sounds of battle soon engulfed around him as the Freys fought desperately to defend their bridge. In one loud voice, he silenced the skirmish. "Your lord is dead! Lay down your arms and I swear upon the old gods and the new that no harm shall befall you, continue fighting in the name of your lord and I'll personally see to it that the name of Frey is removed from the books of history!" He watched as a Frey soldier threw down his sword and knelt, followed by another and another, it didn't take long before the remaining soldiers knelt down in submission.

"Lord Umber, prepare our men to cross the Trident." He said without turning to face the Greatjon, he tossed the decapitated head aside and allowed it to roll down the steps of the Twins. "How many men did we lose taking this accursed bridge?" He asked the nearest lord standing to him.

"At least fifty men and ten horses."

Robb looked downcast at the report before turning around. "Their deaths will not go unavenged, round up the Frey men and have them march with us to Riverrun. They will be our vanguard. They will stand at the forefront when we face the Lannisters, none of our men are to engage until the Frey lines are thin." If his bannermen weren't shocked by his command, they were now. "Lord Karstark, I'm placing you in charge of their 'well-being'." The Lord of Karhold nodded his head in acknowledgment. "Lord Bolton, have three hundred of your retainers stay at the Twins while the rest marches on, they are to hold the bridge until a suitable lord from the Riverlands arrive." The Lord of the Dreadfort inclined his head in support of the decision. "If that is all...let's get off this fucking bridge."

Robb Stark's decision to take the Twins rather than pay the toll was a bold one indeed, his attack on the bridge and execution of Walder Frey would go down in the history books as a warning to all vassals to obey their overlord's command. As of this moment, the members of House Frey were nothing more than a rabble of what they once were. If any of the Freys were to doubt the orders of their overlords ever again, all they had to do was to gaze up onto the ramparts where the rotting head of Walder Frey and ten of his sons stood. It was a warning not to mess with the Young Wolf of the North. The Lannisters laying siege to Riverrun had no idea what was about to hit them, the reports from their scouts stated that the northsmen were still held up at the Trident when in fact, the northsmen had already crossed and were on their way to lift the siege.

* * *

 **Dragonstone (Stannis Baratheon)**

"Lord Stannis! I must protest of your decision to allow that red witch to conduct her ceremony earlier this evening on the beach!" Maester Cressen in service to Dragonstone yelled in anger. "She's burning the statues of the Seven! It's blasphemy! An insult!"

"Melisandre is my adviser. I'm allowing her to conduct her ceremony so that her followers know that my recent decision in supporting my nephew doesn't mean I'm going to forbid them from worshiping their Red God." Stannis Baratheon, Lord of Dragonstone and Jon's eldest uncle answered tiredly. "If you have any problems with it, you can take it up with the woman herself. I'll hear no more about it."

Before the maester could say anything else, the said woman, Melisandre, entered the room.

"You have my gratitude, Lord Stannis, for allowing the burning of the false gods." She said with a smile that irked Stannis to the bone. "Such a pity you did not join us, I'm sure the Lord of Light would ensure victory should you pledge him your faith."

Stannis groaned inwardly. "I've already made up my choice before you conducted your ceremony. I've converted to the Old Gods of the Forest." He insisted much to Melisandre's displeasure. "My nephew is the rightful king, and I will gladly prove my loyalty by following the gods he worshiped." His glare hardened and his eyes did not leave until the red priestess took her seat amongst his assembled vassal lords of the Crownlands. He turned towards Matthos, the son of Davos Seaworth, whom was his trusted right-hand man for some time. "Read that to me." He commanded.

" _I declare upon the honor of my house that my beloved brother..._ "

"He wasn't my beloved brother. I didn't love him, he didn't love me." Stannis interrupted.

"A harmless courtesy, my lord." Davos commented.

"A lie. Take it out." Stannis remarked.

" _...that my brother Robet has only one true heir, Prince Jon Baratheon. The children Joffrey, Tommen..._ "

"Make it Jon Baratheon, the White Wolf." Stannis interrupted again. "It's his title, after all." He paused before speaking again. "Strike out the names of Tommen and Myrcella, they're Jon's siblings in all but blood and they have done nothing as worse as Joffrey." Matthos nodded and made the necessary amendments.

" _The child. Joffrey Waters is born of incest to Cersei Lannister and her brother, Jaime Lannister. I also swear that..._ "

"Jaime Lannister the Kingslayer, call him what he is. Wait, make it Ser Jaime Lannister, the Kingslayer. Whatever else he is, the man's still a knight." Stannis ordered.

" _By right of birth and blood, I declare my support for the rightful heir of the Iron Throne. Let all true and honorable men declare their loyalty to the true heir, Jon Baratheon, the White Wolf. Signed, Stannis Baratheon, Lord of Dragonstone and Master of Ships._ "

"My Lord," Davos spoke up. "perhaps it would be best to wait until you consult your nephew in person before we send this declaration to the kingdoms. He doesn't know the...truth about his siblings' parentage and he may not take this course of action very well."

"When Eddard Stark learned the truth, he only told me. I will not make the same mistake." Stannis retorted before sighing. "I know Jon won't be happy with my decision, but the realm needs to know the truth, at least Tommen and Myrcella aren't included in the letter, I'll take full responsibility if he's angry. So aye, send copies of that letter to the entire realm, from the Arbor to the Wall."

* * *

 **King's Landing (Arya Stark)**

 _'Go to your father'_ Was all Arya Stark could remember as she walked down the streets of King's Landing after narrowly escaping execution by Lannister men, she did as she was told and ran to the stables only to find members of her father's guard and household dead on the ground. She recalled searching for the sword that her betrothed had secretly made for her before he left King's Landing, Needle, she called it. It was there where she killed her first man. No. First boy. It turns out that the stable boy was loyal to the Queen regent and sold her father's guards out when the goldcloaks came knocking. She lost all sense of her teachings of honor that moment and stabbed the boy to death with one thrust of her sword, after which she fled the scene in terror at what she had done.

Everything was so wrong. The guards of her House were dead, the servants were dead, the tutor that her father hired was dead and even the Septa herself was cut down where she stood. Her sister was nowhere to be found, no doubt sucking to the Queen regent and her beloved Joffrey. At least that is what she believes as she moved from street to street trying to rid the armored warriors following her from behind, she knew they were not Lannister men as they were all garbed in steel and they are definitely not goldcloaks. But almost everywhere she turned, she seemed to run into more of them, it's as if they were everywhere at every single moment. She cursed her luck and tried moving south, bypassing an alley only to find herself trapped in a dead end, she heard the sounds of heavy armored footsteps. Drawing out Needle from her waist, she pointed it at the score of men. She rather die before being used as a hostage against Jon, she went into a readied stance, she has hid for five days and that was considered a feat in her books. She was tired of running and hiding.

It's time to end this.

"What do you want with me?" She cried, putting on a strong face. "Wha...?!" She stammered as the crowd of soldiers knelt to the ground before her. "What's going on? Who are you?" She demanded.

"Princess Arya." One of the men, most probably the leader, greeted humbly. "My name is Garlan Tyrell, I am here on orders by my brother, Willas to escort you to Storm's End where the might of the Reach is assembling." He introduced himself and his intentions.

"I am not leaving King's Landing without my father." Arya declared.

Garlan studied the young Stark girl and sighed, he knew the Starks, they were loyal to their own until the very end. Even now, a great Northern host approaches the Riverlands with a clear intention of making the Westerlands bleed for what happened when Lord Eddard Stark was wrongfully accused of usurping the Iron Throne. He sighed and nodded. "I give you my word that I'll do what I can to learn where the Lannisters are keeping your father...and your sister before we plan on how to get them out of here. In the mean time, I implore you to come with us." He pledged with his right hand over his heart.

Arya sheathed Needle and nodded her head. Garlan and his men rose to their feet and escorted Arya to a small hut on the outskirts of the city where several horses awaited just in case, a score of Tyrell men disguised as smallfolk were sent back into the city to learn the location of Eddard Stark.

"How many men are there?" She inquired after changing out of her ragged dress for leather armor.

Garlan laid a map of King's Landing over the table and pointed to several locations. "I have six men posing as goldcloaks near the Mud Gate which will be our extraction point when we discover where the false king is holding Lord Stark. No doubt the city would be in riot and we need a way out of the chaos as soon as possible. Twenty are posing as smallfolk near the Sept of Baelor." At Arya's curious expression he explained. "Most likely the usurper would want Lord Stark to confess to his crimes to the people and there is only one place they could hold that. In front of gods and men. In other words, the Sept. And lastly there are ten good men guarding this very hut where you will stay while I enter to rescue your father." Arya looked ready to protest before he spoke again. "Your safety is paramount to King Jon's cause. If you were to fall into the hands of the Lannisters, all would be lost."

Arya huffed and folded her arms. "And what about you? What would House Tyrell do should you fall?"

Garlan wasn't known as Garlan the Gallant for nothing, he stood to his full height and narrowed his eyes at the Red Keep in the distance. "It's very unlikely that I would fall to the blades of Lannister soldiers, every Reach knight is worth a thousand Lannister swords."

Arya rolled her eyes. "That is exactly what Desmond said, and twenty five men died when only seventeen Lannister men fell." She scoffed quietly about the guard that assured her that one northman is worth ten southron swords, and that very same guard was cut down after killing one Lannister soldier. She had kicked the body in anger after calling him a liar. But now she know that it wasn't his fault that her father was captured, she knew they were taken unaware judging by the posture of the bodies and the killing blows. Most of the guards were stabbed from the back as were many of the retainers.

Garlan must have overheard for he replied. "The Lion may have won a decisive victory against the Direwolf but with the Rose and Stag on their side, the Direwolf will have their revenge. Trust me when I say that a Rose is as deadly as a Direwolf with fangs." He turned and made his way to the door. "The usurper will pay for his crimes in due time, all you have to do is wait for the perfect moment to strike. Do me a favor milady and stay here, we cannot risk the goldcloaks learning of your existence." Arya grumbled but gave a small nod. Once outside, he turned to his men. "Stay here and guard her with your life. Should the odds turn against us, make sure she reaches Storm's End safely. Let no harm befall the future Queen at any cost. And be sure they find the letter discriminating Littlefinger." The men saluted with their fists over their hearts, he smiled in content and dismissed them back to their roles as 'mercenaries' under the command of Petyr Baelish.

"Milord!" A 'goldcloak' rode towards the hut.

Garlan looked up at the rider. "What is it?"

"The smallfolk are gathering at the Sept of Baelor as we speak. The usurper is demanding Lord Stark to confess to his crimes before the realm before giving punishment, the Queen regent wishes for Lord Stark to take the Black and forfeit all titles and deeds. But the usurper is thinking otherwise. He has brought the royal executioner with him!" The 'goldcloak' reported.

"He's planning to execute Lord Stark for treason!" Garlan growled and clenched his fists. "Ride back into the city and spread the word, we strike the moment Lord Eddard Stark is brought out. Keep an eye out for Lady Sansa Stark as well and grab her if possible." The 'goldcloak' nodded and rode back into the city with much haste. His eyes turned towards the distasteful city that they call a capital. "So it begins. Joffrey...you fucking piece of shit." He mounted his horse and rode hard.

Eddard Stark wasn't going to die.

Not on his watch.

* * *

 **Author's Note:** Below is just a brief description of the military might from the different Kingdoms of Westeros.

The North - 30, 000 men (en-route to Riverrun) 10, 000 men (Spread across the North)

The Riverlands - 10, 000 men (at least half at Riverrun)

The Vale - 45, 000 men (half of which is eager to aid Jon)

The Stormlands - 30, 000 (most gathering at Storm's End)

The Westerlands - 50, 000 men (most are at Oxcross) 14,000 men (with Jaime Lannister)

The Reach - 80, 000 men (most are en-route to Storm's End)

The Crownlands - 15, 000 men (Disputed, half rallying to Joffrey)


	2. A Howl in the Night

**Synopsis of Jon Baratheon's household:**

 **Jon Baratheon –** A boy of age fifteen, raised in the very halls of Casterly Rock, a powerful Stag with the claws of a Lion, and the biological son of the late King Robert Baratheon and the one true heir to the Iron Throne. He is the only one among his three siblings to have Robert's brown hair instead of Lannister blonde which made the Hand of the King very curious, despite the rumors of his siblings being born of incest between his mother and Uncle Jaime. Jon still loves his younger brother and sister, he holds a terrible grudge against Joffrey after his older brother murdered a pregnant cat just to see how kittens were born. And that very cat belonged to Tommen. From that point on, a wedge was driven between the two and a small sibling rivalry would make the Seven Kingdoms bleed with fresh blood.

 **Arya Stark –** A feisty northern girl of age twelve, betrothed to Jon Baratheon when King Robert visited Winterfell to convince her father to become the Hand of the King. Her relationship with Jon was rocky from the start as she believed all southron people kept the code of chivalry where women could not do the things that men could, but she changed her ways when Jon revealed that he worshiped the Old Gods and would not stop her if she wanted to wield a sword. To make things even better, Jon gave her a sword of her own, a blade so thin that it could pierce a human's skin as swift as a needle, making her name the blade Needle.

 **Barristan Selmy –** Lord Commander of Jon's Kingsguard.

 **Ser Arys Oakheart –** Sworn member of Jon's Kingsguard.

 **Stannis Baratheon -** Jon's eldest uncle. The current Lord of Dragonstone. The Crownlands answer to him which only a minority were loyal.

 **Renly Baratheon -** Jon's youngest uncle. The current lord of Storm's End. The Stormlords answer to him, which all have risen their banners.

 **Myrcella Baratheon –** Jon's little sister of age twelve. Converted to the Old Gods of the Forests shortly after her brother. Trained in the arts of swordsmanship by the best knights of the Rock and the game by her own grandfather, Myrcella is a Lion in the outer clothing of a harmless sheep. Pretending to be an innocent little girl while playing the game behind the backs of the royal court is what Jon would describe as cunning and crazy, as she could and will talk a Septa out of her robes. She would play a pivotal role in the war to come, and her counsel will be one of the key factors to Jon's victories on the field against their older brother.

 **Tommen Baratheon -** Jon's younger brother of age ten. Currently at King's Landing.

* * *

 **Chapter Two: A Howl in the Night**

 **King's Landing (Garlan Tyrell)**

The bells of the city rang as people, rich and poor, gathered before the Sept of Baelor where the traitor was to answer for his crimes against the Iron Throne. The Goldcloaks have all but been deployed and stood before the dais where the confession would take place, the Queen regent had ordered her own men to stand as additional protected to keep the people away from the platform. Garlan Tyrell inhaled sharply as the Queen walked past him without glancing at his face, how much he wanted to plunge his sword in her back and cut down the false king but he knew he couldn't, he was here for another purpose. He was garbed in the colors of a Lannister guard that he had killed whilst making his way to the Sept, and thankfully no one questioned the blood on his forearm. He studied his surroundings and noted that the 'goldcloaks' standing at the back of the platform were his men as were three other Lannister guards, a group of 'merchants' lined up the front of the platform and one gave him a nod.

The loud commotion of jeers and insults alerted him that Lord Eddard Stark was being led out by the goldcloaks from wherever the Lannisters were keeping him prisoner, he noted that many of the smallfolk had remained silent while only a small minority shouted had the look of disgust on their faces. Garlan watched with a sneer as the Small Council and the High Septon appeared from within the Sept escorted by the Kingsguard and dozens of Lannister men, he quickly laid out a plan to grab both Eddard and Sansa before all hell breaks loose when he gives the order. He shared a glimpse with one of his men and they slowly took a step forward, their hands at the pommel of their swords, no one suspected their change in positions from the back to the front. As Eddard was forced up the steps to the podium, the Warden of the North managed to catch the familiar facial features of Ser Garlan Tyrell before he delivered his 'confession'.

"I am Eddard Stark, Lord of Winterfell and Hand of the King..." Eddard started and paused briefly to share a glance with his daughter and a disguised Garlan, he saw the look in Garlan's eyes and knew what he must do. He had to tell the truth. "...I come before you to confess my treason in the sights of gods and men. I conspired against the Queen and against Prince Joffrey...because..." He swallowed and looked up with dignity and a glare that made the people cringe. "...JOFFREY IS NOT THE TRUE KING OF WESTEROS!" His proclamation silenced everyone, even Garlan himself was surprised at the fire burning inside the Lord of Winterfell. "On his deathbed, King Robert named his second son Jon as his true heir! Not Joffrey! Both Lord Stannis and Lord Renly already knew this before King Robert told me! Jon Baratheon is your rightful king. NOT THIS USURPER!" He growled as he turned his eyes towards the false king.

"You're a lair and a traitor!" Joffrey yelled in anger.

"I spit on your name _Prince_ Joffrey!" Eddard retorted as he spat on the very grounds of the Sept causing an uproar from the High Septon and several smallfolk that followed the Seven. "Strike me down and my son and your brother would raise their banners and split you apart! And when you journey to the next life, I'll be waiting for you...So I can cut you open myself!" He roared as two members of the Kingsguard held him back.

"LIES!" Joffrey was burning with rage by then. "I am the rightful king! Ser Ilyn! Bring me his head!"

Garlan has seen enough, he eased his longsword from its scabbard and ran his blade through Ilyn Payne's back as the royal executioner made his way to the platform. "NOW! To arms men! In the name of the true King!" He roared and his men revealed their true colors. 'Goldcloaks' ran their spears through Lannister men as 'Lannister' men fought against members of the Kingsguard. The crowd screamed in terror but no one really know whom was fighting whom, until the Tyrell men revealed their positions. Garlan grabbed a surprised Sandor Clegane and hurled him towards the a group of Lannister men in his bid the rescue Sansa but was halted in his advance by Boros Blount and Meryn Trant, both members of the Kingsguard.

"Stand down in the name of the king!" Demanded Ser Boros.

Garlan scoffed and went into a defensive stance. "Joffrey's no king of mine!" He roared in defiance.

"Then you shall die a traitor's death!" Ser Meryn growled.

"Ha! Sharp words do not make a man a knight." Garlan retorted, causing Meryn to charge forward.

He parried Meryn's attacks and dodged Boros' blade before he gave a hard upper cut that left Boros in a trance before smashing the two Kingsguard together, when the two bodies met, so too did their blades, both Ser Meryn and Ser Boros were killed by their own swords. He gently pushed their bodies aside, allowing them to tumble to the dirt in a fresh pool of blood, he spat on their corpses before turning around to continue his advance. A squadron of Lannister men hidden in the Sept rushed out to defend the Small Council and to his outrage, dragging Sansa away from the fight. He cursed his luck as the eldest daughter of Eddard Stark was taken away, crying and screaming for someone to help her, he tried to...but the Lannisters were just too many, even for him.

The goldcloaks at the front of the platform turned around to face the threat...only to receive swords in the back by the disguised merchants and smallfolk hiding within the crowd. The merchants and smallfolk in disguise ripped their robes apart to reveal the steel armor of Highgarden. By openly defying Joffrey's rule as King of Westeros and launching an assault to rescue a Stark clearly show the people of King's Landing that the Tyrells are declaring their swords in the name of Jon Baratheon, the rightful King of Westeros. More goldcloaks joined the fight from all sides, Garlan and his men were clearly outnumbered two to one but for each Tyrell dead, they took at least ten goldcloaks with them.

Garlan pulled his sword out of a goldcloak and turned towards Eddard, only for his eyes to widen in absolute horror. A Lannister guard had grabbed a spear after killing one of his men disguised as a goldcloak, time seemed to slow as the Tyrell ran forward in his attempt to stop what was about to happen, he could only watch helplessly when the spear went through Eddard's abdomen. "You fucking cunt!" He roared. The Lannister looked up only to see the fury stricken Garlan swinging his sword, the guard's head went flying to the feet of a shocked Petyr Baelish, the Master of Coins. In his anger and anguish, he stormed towards Littlefinger whom wasn't guarded by any men and ran his blade through the man a dozen times before kicking the body down the steps. After which, he fought his way back to Eddard's side.

"To me! Rally to me!" He bellowed. "Defend Lord Stark!" The surviving Tyrell moved onto his location, cutting down anyone that approached the wounded Eddard Stark.

Ripping off his cloak, Garlan applied pressure to Eddard's abdomen in an attempt to stop the bleeding as his men rallied around him. "Clear a passage! Kill anyone that attempts to block us!" He commanded. His men didn't hesitate to obey his commands, they ran into the crowd which quickly parted before them, he had lost six good men in his attempt to free Eddard Stark but dealt a massive blow to the Kingsguard by taking out two of their most feared fighters. The goldcloaks would be in need of fresh recruitment after this very day, his men had made bloody sure to thin their ranks and the Lannister guards even more so. He had also taken out the Master of Coins in his rage, cutting off the Crown's supply of crownstags. He could hear the false king yelling and cursing as they made their escape. His disguised men stationed at the Mud Gate quickly cleared a path and together they rode as quick as they could towards the hidden hut on the outskirts of the city, Arya Stark nearly screamed when she noticed the blood pouring out of her father's stomach, but she quickly recovered and mounted a nearby horse.

"Leave me...I'll only be a burden..." Eddard rasped between breaths. "Take Arya and...get out..."

Ser Garlan only held the reins of his horse tighter. "Not on your life! You'll live through this!" He hoped.

After three hours of hard riding, they managed to make their way into lands occupied by the Stormlands where no goldcloak nor Lannister would follow and were only two days away from Storm's End itself, Garlan's men managed to find a hidden location to make camp for the night where he gently laid the gravelly injured Eddard against the foot of a tree. His daughter, Arya sat at his side as she attempted in vain to clean the blood that had already soiled the cloak. Garlan cursed himself, not only had he failed to rescue Sansa Stark but he also failed to prevent any harm from befalling Eddard, he knelt down beside the Lord of Winterfell and gently fed him a bowl of water. Eddard choked and coughed as he drank from the bowl, his breathing was ragged and heavy as he looked at his daughter.

"Arya...I'm dying..." He simply stated.

"No...no...you'll be fine. Jon will see to that..." Arya's voice trembled as she replied.

"You must not give up, Lord Stark." Garlan insisted. "You must hold on until we reach our camp at Storm's End. We have healers that can help you. The Reach has herbs that can cure any injuries. My family will-!"

Eddard merely shook his head. "It's too late...I'll never be able to complete the journey to Storm's End...My legs are weak, and my vision blurs..." He coughed and took a deep breath. "My eyes are darken."

"NO! You can't die like this!" Arya stubbornly replied, as she sobbed. "Not today...PLEASE! Not today! You promised me...You said you would be there when I become Queen..."

"Hush...it's alright little one...my body is weak...you have to let me go." Eddard whispered as he slowly reached out for Arya's cheek. "I cannot stay and walk you down the aisle as I have dreamed of...that task falls to Robb...And I beg your forgiveness for breaking my word to see the realm declare you as their Queen...but know that I'll be watching on the other side." Arya only shook her head. "I'm not afraid of dying Arya, death has been but a distant dream...and now it grows ever closer for me to be reunited with my brother...my sister...Know that I go gladly." Arya sobbed even harder and held his hand tight as fresh tears came down her cheeks. "Tell your mother...and your siblings...that if the dead can come back to this earth...and flit unseen around those they loved, I shall always be near them...and you...in the brightest day and the darkest night...Tell my bannermen not to mourn me dead...but to think I am gone and wait for me...for we shall meet again in the next life." He rasped as he started coughing, Arya reached down to tend to his wounds but his hands grabbed hers. "Leave it. Remember what I said to you...remember it. Promise me Arya? Promise me." He stared into her eyes like his sister had done to him all those years ago.

"I...I promise." Arya whispered softly.

He then turned his gaze weakly to Garlan Tyrell of the Reach. "Ser Garlan...I have a favor to ask of you, a last wish for a dying soldier..."

"Name it, my lord." Garlan replied, holding back his tears that were about to fall.

"Tell Jon...tell him that..." Eddard placed his right hand over his heart as he said the next sentence. "I would have followed him...As my general...my brother...and my king."

"I will my lord...I swear it I will." Garlan answered just to see Eddard take his last breath as the light finally left his eyes. Arya screamed and tried to wake her father but to no avail when his hand fell from hers, she flung her arms around Garlan and cried her lungs out. The men of the Reach bowed their heads low when they realized what had happened, Garlan gently pried Arya from his chest and looked into her eye. "I beg forgiveness milday...for my failure to rescue your father and sister...I promised you that no harm would befall Lord Stark...and I failed...forgive me." He bowed his head low.

"You have nothing to apologize for...You risked your life to save my father...and for that I thank you." Arya said softly. "I...I need some time alone..." Was all she said before running off.

Garlan watched the young Stark girl run off before she collapsed onto her knees and cried out in anguish towards the heavens, for taking away her lord father when she needed him most. Her anger soon turned to grief, as she brought her hands to her face and cried. He turned his attention away from the scene and back to the lifeless body of Eddard Stark, he gently placed his hand over his heart and bowed his head.

"Be at peace, son of the North."

* * *

 **Storm's End (Renly Baratheon)**

Hundreds if not thousands of soldiers poured in almost every single day on a massive plain on the outskirts of Storm's End, Renly Baratheon was true to his word when he promised the might of the Stormlands and the Reach to back Jon's claim for the Iron Throne. There were about sixty thousand knights and men-at-arms on the field alone with a thousand more on the way, Stannis Baratheon arrived a little later with nearly eight thousand men from the Crownlands, the Lord of Dragonstone regretfully broke the news that some of the Crownlords had chosen to side with the usurper. Renly had raged about their loyalty to the true heir for nearly an hour and it took both Loras Tyrell and Margaery Tyrell to calm him down, and when he did, he promised their heads on spikes which Stannis agreed wholeheartedly.

Reports on dire situations in the Riverlands kept flying before the Baratheon brothers, they knew the Riverlords were Robert's most loyal allies and they had to do something to win their favor but none of them could act until their nephew, the King gets here. Stannis had praised Robb's actions at the Trident whilst Renly had shown a look of surprise at the fact that, the Young Wolf had executed Walder Frey for being an oath-breaker and taking the Twins for himself. Margaery had reassured the two brothers that her older brother Garlan would be arriving anytime soon with Eddard Stark and the future Queen of Westeros. Both Stannis and Renly had no other choice but to rely on Garlan Tyrell to rescue Arya Stark and her father from the jaws of King's Landing before Joffrey takes their heads, what they did not know was that Eddard had passed from this world a few hours ago. A commotion from outside startled them from their deep thoughts, the two brothers together with Ser Loras and Margaery walked outside to see what is the cause of the commotion.

"His Grace! His Grace has arrived!" A Baratheon men cheered.

"If he's here, we can finally take the fight to the Lannisters!" A Tyrell men announced.

True enough, Jon Baratheon was indeed coming, he rode on the back of his mighty black steed that was larger than any horse breeds in the South, trotting alongside him was Ghost, the feared white Direwolf with red eyes in the Westerlands. On his left rode Myrcella, his younger sister, her blonde hair fluttered as the breeze blew against her face, the men must have truly been awestruck by the large sword that hung on her saddle. Behind the two Baratheon siblings were Ser Barristan Selmy and Ser Arys Oakheart, the only two members of the Kingsguard that were made known to Robert's will to make Jon his heir instead of Joffrey. Further back marched nearly eight hundred retainers hailing from House Buckler, Lord Buckler was filled with pride for having the honor of escorting the rightful king.

"HAIL TO THE KING!" Stannis roared as he knelt, causing the entire camp to drop to their knees.

"Rise my fellow brothers in arms..." Jon said as he bade his two uncles to stand. "I am not the King yet and I'll never be until the High Septon declares it to be." Stannis opened his mouth to argue. "In the eyes of the men I am king, aye. But not in the eyes of the gods and the people. The men can continue calling me 'Your Grace' for as long as they want to, but I will not call myself one until I take the Iron Throne by rightful means." He retorted before a hint of amusement caught his eye. "A little bird told me that you, Uncle Stannis, has converted to the Old Gods of the Forests, and from what I know, you're not a man of religion." Renly stifled a chuckle at his brother's stunned face.

"I would do anything to prove my loyalty, Your Grace." Stannis replied gruffly.

"I would never make any demands for any man to prove their loyalty, you should know that Uncle Stannis." Jon answered with a gentle smile, Stannis nodded but said nothing else. "Uncle Renly, I hope you wouldn't mind to part with some of the rations. Lord Buckler and his retainers are weary from the road...after clashing with a company of goldcloaks that were sent after us."

"What?!" Renly proclaimed with a look of outrage on his face.

Jon quickly raised his two hands in an effort to come his uncle down. "It's alright uncle, Ser Barristan and Ser Arys ensured that no harm came to us whilst Lord Buckler and his men fought, not a single men on our side went down in the fighting." He smirked as he said the next few words. "I cannot say the same for the goldcloaks that came after us, the crows should be having a feast by now." Roars of laughter erupted from all over the camp at Jon's sarcastic remark, even Stannis managed a small smirk himself. "But putting aside all these problems, I really think we should discuss our next step. A war is coming and I want everyone to understand the part they'll play in it. I need some volunteers to help us with our carriage which we have carried with us, it contains fresh games that I personally shot. And I also need a few men to escort my sister to Storm's End where she'll be safe." With that said, Jon began walking forward towards the command tent with his two uncles flanking his sides and behind them were countless of lords and knights.

"That's not fair!" Myrcella yelled after Jon's retreating form. "You can't keep me away from the war council forever!" She growled as several Baratheon men led her horse the other way.

Jon ignored his sister's yells of denial and promises of swift and painful retribution behind him as he neared the command tent, a map of the entire Stormlands, Riverlands and the area surrounding King's Landing were perfectly laid atop the table with several chess pieces representing different Houses all over the place. He studied the map carefully. "I want a report, how many Houses from the Crownlands supports my claim?" He asked, eyes never leaving the map.

"Houses Brune, Buckwell, Celtigar, Rykker, Hayford and Rosby." Stannis replied grimly.

"That's good enough." Jon said as he moved a chess piece and slammed it next to Riverrun. "Riverrun cannot hold against a siege when her own vassals are still gathering up their men, in order for the Riverlords to join their swords to ours we have to lift the siege by cutting down the Lion." He declared with a determined look in his eye. "Ser Loras, I'm placing you in command of our vanguard troops, you are to lead them towards Riverrun, you are to engage all patrols and raid all camps along the way. If possible, learn where the northsmen are making camp and establish a means of communication with them. Work together and eliminate the Lannister threat plaguing the Riverlands." The Knight of the Flowers gave a swift bow as he left the tent. "While Ser Loras engages the Lannister force laying siege to Riverrun, I'll take another portion of the army and lay siege to Harrenhal. We'll oust the Mountain from the fortress he calls home and return it to the rightful owners." Several voices spoke out at once.

"This is too dangerous." Renly said softly. "The Lannisters will cut you down when they see you."

"You're no good to us dead. Let someone else go instead." Lord Mace Tyrell of Highgarden suggested.

"Your Grace, Lord Tyrell is right, the risk is too great." Stannis argued. "Let me lead the charge."

"I know the risks." Jon silenced his uncle and everyone with one sharp look. "How can I call myself King if I can't lead the men? How can I call myself King if the people do not see me riding in front? No, this is my duty. When the day finally comes when King's Landing is ours and Arya is safely at my side, then I would gladly set aside my blade, but until then...I will not rest until I right the wrong that Joffrey has committed against the innocent." His fists shook with anger as he spat out the next few words. "Those bastards that attacked us, they spoke of Joffrey as if he was their savior, their true king and all of my father's bastards were nothing but rotten trash." He stared at his uncles. "He killed _them_. He knew they were children and he killed _them_. He killed _them_ all." His eyes burned with fury that one could have sworn that he was Robert Baratheon reincarnated with a little Tywin Lannister inside.

Renly decided to take the gentle approach. "And he'll answer for it. I promise you, Joffrey will answer for this." He reassured, he breathed a sigh of relief when his nephew's rage left. "When we take King's Landing from the Lannisters, I'll personally drag Joffrey and throw him at your feet, his fate will be in your hands, and your hands alone. And I promise you that no harm will come to Tommen." He gave a hard glare towards any lord who dares speak otherwise. Fortunately, none had any arguments with that.

Jon calmed down and sighed. "Was there any word from the Westerlands?" He asked.

"Aside from the siege at Riverrun and the Mountain pillaging the villages. Lord Tywin has mustered a large host of nearly fifty thousand at Oxcross which I believe he would use them to stall the northsmen advance, but with the Twins under Bolton control, he will be disputed between aiding the siege or engaging the northern host." Lord Alester of House Florent answered.

"The Twins?" Jon repeated, clearly confused. "How did the Boltons gain control of the bridge?"

"We aren't really clear what happened, but it's confirmed that the northsmen stormed the Twins and executed Walder Frey for being an oath-breaker. As the majority of the host continued south, three hundred Bolton retainers remained at the bridge." Stannis spoke.

"Another problem removed, that's fine." Jon waved the concern aside. He didn't really like the Freys more than he liked Joffrey. "We should be focusing on-?!"

Before anything else can be said, a Baratheon men-at-arms barged into the tent with a frantic look on his face. "MILORDS! I beg your pardon, milords. Your Grace! I bring a message from Ser Loras." He bowed his head. Renly nodded for the soldier to deliver his message. He glanced up fearfully and turned his eye towards Jon. "Your Grace...Ser Garlan has returned from King's Landing..." A wave of relief flushed over the tent before the happiness was crushed by the next sentence. "But Lord Eddard Stark died before reaching our camp..." The reaction that came next was instant, Jon immediately marched out of the tent with dozens of his bannermen running after him, Ghost sprinting directly at his side.

Jon came to a direct halt at the entrance of the camp where several Tyrell men stood with their heads bowed as a horse-drawn carriage came into view over the horizon, his heart came pumping faster and faster with each step he took. Lying inside the wagon was a body concealed by a white cloth, with trembling hands, he gently lifted the cover and his eyes went huge. For Lord Eddard Stark lay with his eyes closed, his face ever peaceful with his arms draped across his chest, a small wave of brown hair crashed into his side before he could even speak. As the crowd grew closer, drawn by the curiosity of nearly a dozen lords standing solemnly, many yelled bloody murder the moment they spotted the familiar features of the late Warden of the North. Some even cried for blood. Renly demanded an instant march to King's Landing. Stannis took it much better, but one could see the fire in his eyes. Ghost, the white direwolf let out a mournful and haunting howl into the heavens.

"Cravens!"

"Those bloody bastards!"

"The North will see them hang for this..."

"Justice! There must be justice for this!"

Those were some of the words spoken by the various men.

Ser Garlan of House Tyrell dismounted from his white steed, his face filled with remorse and guilt as he knelt before Jon along with all his men begging for forgiveness, for their failure to deliver Eddard Stark alive and well. "Your Grace, I will accept any punishments you deem worthy for I have failed to prevent any harm befalling the late Lord Stark..." He stated slowly before continuing. "Before Lord Stark passed from this world, he told me to deliver this message to you." Jon nodded for him to continue speaking. "He told me that he would have been proud to follow your banner, to stand by your side as a brother in arms, he would have been proud to call you his King."

"You...did your best Ser Garlan." Jon said softly before reaching down to pull the knight to his feet. He turned and faced the Tyrell men still on their knees. "Rise, all of you." He added. They rose. He finally realized that the wave of brown hair that he saw earlier was none other than his betrothed, Arya, he quickly draped his arms over her shoulders when he felt the fresh tears on his hunting tunic. "Uncles, can you see to it that Uncle Eddard is prepared...Do whatever it takes that is necessary to prepare him for transportation, he's a man of the Old Gods and he should be returned to where he truly belongs, in the crypts beneath Winterfell."

"Lord Stark was a close friend of ours." Stannis spoke calmly. "We'll see to it. You have my word."

"There's a weirwood tree in the forests nearby. The Andals missed that one apparently." Renly said softly. "You can make your prayers there..." He suggested.

Jon nodded solemnly, his hands still holding onto a sobbing Arya. "I want ravens to be sent from Dorne to Castle Black of Lord Stark's death at the hands of the Lannisters, the whole realm must learn the truth." He commanded.

"It will be done, Your Grace." Ser Garlan replied.

"Ser Loras. My orders stand."

"Riverrun will be free, Your Grace. I'll try and leave some lions for you." Ser Loras answered with his head bowed.

"I also need someone to deliver this news to Myrcella..." Jon added, he paused. "She won't take it well."

"I'll go." Lady Margaery Tyrell, wife to Renly volunteered without a thought. "She'll need a shoulder to cry on and I can help." Jon inclined his head in gratitude.

"Go on, Your Grace." Stannis urged his head towards the trees. "We'll take care of things here."

"Walk with me Arya..." Jon slowly led Arya back towards the direction of the forests. He could hear several footsteps marching behind him, no doubt guards assigned to ensure his safety, he ignored them totally and focused on finding the heart tree that his uncle mentioned. It took several minutes, but he finally found the weirwood tree with the carved face in its trunk. "Legends say that no man call tell a lie in the presence of a heart tree, as the Old Gods watches and knows when we do. Do you know the words of my House?" It wasn't a question but he still said it anyway.

"Ours is the Fury." Arya whispered softly.

"Aye, and Joffrey has clearly earned mine." Jon replied with narrowed eyes.

"Kill them..." Arya muttered coldly. "Kill them all."

"They have your sister, once she's free...I promise you...We will kill them all."

A gentle breeze blew past their faces. A howl from a wolf was heard. Then another. And another.

The Old Gods have answered their prayers for vengeance.

* * *

 **Oxcross (Tywin Lannister)**

Tywin Lannister was no fool. He knew the game he was playing. He knew the risks he had to take to ensure his family's legacy is not stained. When the news of the Baratheon brothers raising their banners in support of his grandson, Jon Baratheon, he knew it wouldn't be long before he is forced to make a decision between the Iron Throne and the only grandson he rather have as King. Now, after rallying his banners and sending nearly 14,000 men to lay siege to Riverrun while the rest awaited his further orders by setting up camp in the village of Oxcross. But that was before Jon declared himself a claimant of the Iron Throne and the rightful heir, now he was beginning to regret his decision of attacking Riverrun. But there was no time to dwell on mistakes of the past. Of course, he had heard about Robb Stark's bold attack on the Twins and ousting House Frey as oath-breakers to House Tully, if the northern boy had been his son he would have awarded him the seat of the Rock for his cunning move against the Freys. And then, there was that raven that arrived two days ago about the rescue attempt that left two Kingsguard dead and several of his daughter's men along with a dozen goldcloaks slaughtered. He had crushed the letter and called that oaf of a grandson who ordered Ned Stark's execution an idiot, but on the outside he had to show that he was in support of his family's decision though he might not agree with them. And then, there was that raven that arrived this early morning bearing the ill-fated news of Lord Eddard Stark's death at the hands of a Lannister guard, his grandson, Jon had called the northsmen to stand and fight for vengeance. Any further thoughts were interrupted by the arrival of Lord Gawen Westerling and his son, Ser Raynald Westerling.

Ser Raynald, knighted for outstanding chivalry. He recalled. The heir of the Crag whom had trained beside Jon Baratheon ever since the boy was his ward at the Rock, the bond between the two were unlike no other, there was no doubt in his mind that he had chosen the right man for this job. And the right family. A job that had to remain a secret for all eternity or risk staining the name of Lannister for years to come.

"You summoned us, my lord?" Gawen inquired.

"I did. Come. Sit." Tywin motioned to the chairs. Once the Lord of the Crag and his son was comfortable, then did the real meeting began. "Tell me, Lord Westerling. What do you think of my grandson, Jon Baratheon? Wait, don't answer. I already know. Your son is a very close friend of his and would not hesitate to lay down his life for his name if need be. Your loyalty to my grandson should be applauded if we are not on the brink of war." He stated simply, mentally taking the flinching in Ser Raynald's body posture and Lord Gawen's look of sudden dread and fear. He mentally smirked, now he had fully secured the two pieces that he could use to establish some sort of connection with his grandson, he didn't say any other word as he pulled out a sealed parchment with the sigil of his House. "I want you, Ser Raynald, to break camp with a couple of loyal soldiers from my retinue by nightfall when all are asleep, and ride with haste to Storm's End." He started, and studied their reactions very carefully.

"My lord, I can assure you that my-?!" Gawen's protests were cut off by Tywin's glare.

"I'm issuing your son a command." Tywin snapped back, causing the Lord of the Crag to stiffen and his son to lean forward in interest. "That parchment is for my grandson's eyes only. Take it to him and swear your sword to his service, pledge him your fealty and swear on your life and honor that you'll stand by his side until he takes the Iron Throne." Ser Raynald went speechless. The Old Lion of the Rock took a sip from his cup filled with wine before gazing into the eyes of the young knight. "This war will already be won if my daughter would just admit that Jon is the better king and the rightful heir to the Iron Throne as the late Robert decreed in his will. Ironic isn't it? As we speak here while I ponder my next move on whether to support the crown or my grandson, the Stormlands is gearing up for battle especially after what that oaf of a boy my daughter calls king decided to take Ned Stark's head. Fortunately, the Tyrells were there to prevent a beheading but they failed to prevent harm from befalling the Warden of the North..." He sighed as his eyes found its way to Ser Raynald, causing the young knight to gulp in fear.

"Ned Stark is dead, killed by one of my daughter's men while that boy calls for his head. Lady Sansa is held a captive at King's Landing, and when the news reaches the ears of the Wolves, their anger will only increase ten fold. Last I heard, the Stark boy has taken the Twins for himself and has crossed the Trident with nearly twenty thousand men, of which four thousand were Frey men, forced to fight under penalty of death." To paint a much clearer picture for his guests, Tywin lifted a chess piece in the shape of a wolf and slammed it next to Riverrun, he then moved a Stag to Riverrun as well. "The Starks will come to the aid of their allies from the north, and if Jon is as wise as I know him to be, he'll move his host south to break Jaime's siege of Riverrun. Jon will then seek an alliance with the North and the Riverlords, the North will bent their knees as he is betrothed to the Stark girl, the Riverlords will follow as he has the better claim. And if the Vale of Arryn decides to raise their banners..." He paused.

"We will be overrun." He stated plainly. "Cut off from all sides. An alliance with the Dornish would be foolhardy, they'd rather sit back and bent the knee to the winner."

"My lord...does this mean..." Ser Raynald said cautiously. "...are we declaring our swords for Jon?"

Tywin sighed as he poured himself another drink. "I ordered Jaime to take fourteen thousand men and commanded the Mountain to burn the Riverlands in retribution for Tyrion's capture. So no, I cannot declare my support for Jon even if I wanted to. The Stranger can take me and I will never deny the fact that I urge to ride out to Storm's End and lay my sword at Jon's feet this very instant. He has the better claim...a larger army at his back...and he'll be a much more better King than Joffrey." He added before giving them the feeling that he had said too much in one night. "I have nothing further for you. Ser Raynald, my orders stand. You'll ride to Storm's End at nightfall, take as many horses as you can. It's wise to rally as much men to your side before breaking camp, speak to your friend, Ser Tytos Brax and see if a compromise could be made between your Houses. Lord Gawen, return to your holdfast the following dawn and dip your banners when you receive my raven. Under no circumstances that this meeting ever took place. If anyone in your household cannot be trusted...kill them." He narrowed his eyes in warning. "Your very lives depend on it."

The Old Lion drank his wine in content when the two agreed.

The whole of Westeros will believe that Tywin Lannister is supporting his family, and hence the Iron Throne. But no one, not even his own children or bannermen would ever suspect that the Old Lion was in fact backing Jon Baratheon's claim from the shadows. Commander House Westerling to declare their support for Jon's rebellion is just one of the many plans that the Lion has in his palm, with Petyr Baelish dead at the hands of Ser Garlan Tyrell, the Small Council will turn to him for gold to fund the levies raised by the Crownlords loyal to the crown. But Tywin's no fool. He won't allow his gold from the mines of the Rock to be squandered away raising recruits that would most certainly die, no, he'd rather stage an 'accident' and deliver the gold to Jon's footsteps. With the right amount of gold, and the right amount of threats, the Vale might even declare their banners for Jon. Yes, he nodded his head in silence. Jon needs the Vale to control the North in any event that the Krakens try anything. And the Vale needs Jon's guidance more so than they need the sickly heir of the late Jon Arryn. A letter with his signature. That'll do.

"Guard. Bring me ink and paper."


	3. The Battle Begins

**Chapter Three: The Battle Begins**

* * *

 **Northern Host (Robb Stark)**

The early morning fog scattered around the vast fields of the Riverlands as the mighty northern host made their advanced down the River Road, Robb Stark had ordered the host to march with haste after receiving a raven mentioning the death of his lord father at the hands of a Lannister spear, the very thought of his father dying only fueled him to continue pressing forward. The sun had not yet dawned when the northsmen appeared on the horizon behind one of the three Lannister camps around the seat of House Tully. Robb was joined by Ser Brynden Tully, his great-uncle and several Valemen that had chosen to follow the Blackfish rather than wait for the Lady Arryn to make a move. After much discussion during the night, it was decided that the command of the vanguard consisting of several Frey men, shall be given to Brynden who would lead the first charge against the Lannister camp north of Tumblestone. He had studied the Lannister patrols and noted that Jaime Lannister, the Kingslayer himself was in total command of the assaulting force, but he noticed several discord among the ranks of the westermen. House Brax, he noticed, were the only ones making arguments with the other westermen. Could they be declaring for Jon? That he did not know.

He glanced to his left and gave a firm nod at his brother in all blood, Theon Greyjoy, arrayed to his left and right were Lords Rickard Karstark, Karyl Vance, Roose Bolton and the Greatjon himself along with a dozen knighted sons and a certain Mormont warrior-girl. Behind them were at least six thousand northsmen on horseback, awaiting his orders, every single person were eager to stain their blades with the blood of the lions. Now all they had to do was wait for the Blackfish's signal to advance. The raven that carried the letter confirming the death of his lord father also carried another missive meant for his eyes only, he had read the letter in secrecy and only he knew that a large host of Stormlanders and Reachmen under the command of Ser Loras Tyrell would be arriving to aid them. The sounds of battle soon arose from the northern camp, he smiled grimly as the palisades caught up in flames, he eased his longsword and held it aloft.

"ADVANCE!" He roared, and in one swift movement, the northsmen charged the field.

The sleeping westerlanders, roused by the sounds of fighting, attempted to rush to the defense of the northern camp when they realized that the northsmen were coming straight for them. Not only that, the gates of Riverrun swung open and out came a hundred outriders led by Lord Tytos Blackwood. The riverlanders and the northsmen joined their forces in the center and started to massacre the confused Lannister host. A fast swirling arrow pierced the hind legs of Robb's horse causing him to tumble to the ground, he rolled and quickly stood to his feet. He ran his blade through the back of an unsuspecting Lannister men, but as he was pulling his sword out from the body, he did not see nor notice Jaime Lannister creeping out behind him until he caught a glimpse of steel meeting steel mere inches behind him. He whirled around in a flash only to find Lord Andros Brax deflecting Jaime's killing blow that was meant for him.

"You traitor!" Jaime growled.

The Lord of Hornvale shook his head and gave the Kingslayer a hard shove. "I'm no traitor. You are the traitor. Standing with the usurper rather than the true king." He held his blade in a defensive stance, he gave Jaime a crooked grin. "If I die today, I die knowing that I made the right choice. House Brax stands with Jon Baratheon! The true King of Westeros!" At his declaration of his loyalty, Robb watched as hundreds of westermen bearing the sigil of the amethyst unicorn turn their blades against their fellow westermen. However, that proclamation only made the Kingslayer angrier. The two engaged in a series of blows, they parried, dodged, block, struck and parried again before a lucky stroke from Jaime found its way into the chest of Andros Brax.

Robb watched in absolute horror as Andros fell to the ground. He readied his sword, he glanced around and couldn't find Theon or any of his bannermen nearby, he cursed himself and charged. He silenced out the Kingslayer's constant taunts and focused on breaking his defense structure, the more Jaime talked, the more he felt like cutting the man open but he knew he could not. Even if he won, he needed the Kingslayer as a bargaining chip for his sister, Sansa whom is still a captive of the Queen regent and the false king. As he fought the Kingslayer, he noticed a series of pattern is Jaime's attacks and defenses, a thought came into his mind as he foolishly dropped his guard. Jaime fell for his trick and thrust his blade forward. He side-stepped and brought his blade down on the weakest part of the armor, his blade cleaved through mail and flesh which ended with a deep cut. The Kingslayer dropped to his knees with blood seeping out of his wounded arm. Without a second thought, Robb knocked the knight out with the back of his sword.

"Sleep tight, Kingslayer." He spat on the body.

"My lord, the northern camp has fallen to the Blackfish and we have routed the forces here." Lord Rickard Karstark reported just as he spotted the unconscious Kingslayer. "By the Old Gods, you actually defeated him..." His voice was filled with awe and the look of respect was evident in his eyes.

Robb managed to grin before he remembered what happened. "Have some men carry the Kingslayer into one of the cells in Riverrun, he'll stay there until the true King arrives." Lord Karstark nodded in agreement as he barked for his sons to carry the Kingslayer away. "Lord Brax..." He suddenly recalled and quickly ran to the fallen lord's side. "Lord Brax? Can you hear me?" He said.

Andros cracked his eye open. "Lord Stark..." He whispered. "I'm sorry for your father...he was an honorable man...I respected him." Robb nodded in gratitude, With weak hands, he grabbed his sword and handed it to Robb. "Take my blade...give it to my son, my heir...return my bones to my castle when I'm gone...tell my family what has happened here and they'll rise up in rebellion..." Robb at first refused the sword, stating firmly that a maester could save him, he merely chuckled through ragged breath. "No...no maester can save me. I've lost too much blood...I won't make it past the night." He coughed and held his chest in agony. "Tell my men...tell them what I told you...they'll fight for you..." He stated, Robb nodded. He managed a gentle smile. "You northsmen are not that bad either."

Robb opened his mouth to reply only to discover that Andros has stopped breathing, the Lord of Hornvale had died with his eyes wide opened but a smile on his lips, he has died fighting for what he believed in. Robb gently closed the eyelids of the fallen lord and whispered a short eulogy, his hand tighten around his sword and Andros' sword, he stood to his full height. "Men of Hornvale!" He called and watched as several answered the call when he held the blade high. They were all his to command for now. He looked across the Red Fork and narrowed his eyes at the other Lannister camp. "With me! Avenge your lord!"

The men of Hornvale answered with a resounding battle cry.

* * *

 **Baratheon – Reach Vanguard (Ser Loras Tyrell)**

Ser Loras Tyrell, otherwise known in the realm as the Knight of Flowers slapped the reins of his horse as the sounds of fighting and the smell of death grew evident in the air. He had taken at least eight thousand outriders from the Reach and several hundred archers from the Stormlands and Dragonstone, he was honored to have been bestowed the duty to lead the vanguard, and to be the one to broker an alliance with the North and Riverlands. The battle was all but joined on all three banks, the Lannister camp north of Tumblestone was burning to the ground with minor resistance and the second Lannister camp on the River Road was being engaged by vengeful northsmen. The only camp that remained free of any attacks was the one near High Heart, the westermen in that camp managed to gear up in time and formed a counter-attack against outriders from Riverrun. Time was ticking, and he quickly mobilized the forces under his command.

"Archers! Make ready!" He cried. Hundreds of bowstrings were pulled. "Steady..." He held his hand aloft and brought it down. "FIRE!" The arrows whizzed over his head, striking dozens of Lannister men from the back, the northsmen halted in their charge when they spotted the banners of the Rose and Stag flying proudly over the horizon. Many broke out in cheers and with loud war cries, they charged the field once more. "Cavalry form up behind me!" He barked. He pulled out his longsword from its scabbard and pointed it towards the trapped Lannister host. "Give no quarter lads! And expect none either! Now, with me! Let's send these bastards crying to the afterlife! FOR THE WHITE WOLF!"

With that, the Baratheon-Reach vanguard advanced forward in a wedge formation, letting out their battle cries echo across the valley. Loras kicked his horse faster, a loud war cry erupting from his throat, as the knights and outriders behind him lowered their lances, charging in a full gallop.

The Lannister men, too preoccupied dealing with the northsmen sudden charge, were thrown into complete chaos when the Baratheon-Reach cavalry crashed into their rear at full speed, trampling down men and other horses alike. Hundreds of the red lions were skewered on lances on impact, and a chaotic melee battle erupted between the now outnumbered Lannisters and their enemies. Steel met steel as each men on either side fought for their own survival, there was no time for honor on the field that day, there was only death. Screams of the dying and wounded rang out from all around the battlefield, singing their songs of death as they were welcomed into the halls of the Father to be judged for their sins, or were dragged down into the darkness of the Stranger. However, it had no impact on Ser Loras Tyrell, for he was having a great field day.

Battles and tourneys were all he knew ever since he was a boy at Highgarden, and even more so after he gained his knighthood. He felt pride in his bones when his blade cleaved through the neck of an unsuspecting Lannister men at arms, while burying an axe into the skull of a Marband knight. The unlucky knight slid off his horse and crashed onto the ground, joining his fallen brethren. As he gazed across the field, a knight from Crakehall knocked him off the seat of his mount. Loras quickly stood to his feet, wondering who in the seven hells could knock him off his steed. His eyes widen when he saw the culprit.

The man responsible was known as one of the strongest living men in Westeros, He was clad in standard westerland armor with a black and white brindled boar coat worn over the plates of steel, mail and leather. He was the middle son of Lord Roland Crakehall and was better known as Strongboar, for his strength and ability to wield a sword, ranking a mere second to Loras himself. Ser Lyle Crakehall was his name. And the man wasn't alone. At his side stood Ser Forley Prester, sword in hand and ready to engage the Knight of Flowers in a bloody dance.

"Well, well, the Knight of Flowers in the Riverlands." Mocked the Strongboar. "Tell me, Ser Loras, are you done sticking your cock in Renly's arse." He laughed despite the battle raging all around him.

Loras managed to grin for a moment before his charged forward, he tackled the Strongboar to the ground and almost finished the bastard when the Prester boy struck him from behind. Fortunately, he was saved from being decapitated by the thickness of his helmet, he whirled around, his blade meeting Forley's in a dance of death. They twirled, ducked, hit, parried, hit, and parried again. "Is this the might of the Westerlands? I expect something better from knights like you!" He taunted. Forley saw red and hurled himself forward, exposing the side of his armor. With a glint of achievement in his eyes, Loras thrusted his blade into the weakest part of Forley's armor. He pulled the blade out as the Strongboar gave a loud ferocious war cry at the sight of his fallen comrade. Loras countered the attack and picked up a shield from a fallen Tyrell knight.

Loras blocked attacks after attacks from the Strongboar, there was no chance he could counter an offensive as the Crakehall knight was in a frenzy. His shield arm grew weaker and weaker with each hit, and it was only a matter of time before he would be overwhelmed. He swung his blade forward, but was parried away. The Strongboar lifted up his blade, Loras lifted his shield. That one last swing from the Crakehall's blade shattered the shield in half, breaking his arm in the process, and the Strongboar gave a solid kick on Loras' chestplate sending the Knight of Flowers sprawling on the ground. Stars and fading darkness spiraled Loras' vision, a large shadow of the Strongboar hovering above him with his blade ready to strike. He closed his eyes and begged forgiveness. He waited for the killing blow...which did not came.

The Strongboar cried out in agony when he felt a ripping pain from his chest. Loras opened his eyes at the scream to see the Strongboar staring in disbelief at the blade sprouting out of his breastplate, the Crakehall knight fell to his knees as the blade was pulled out from his chest causing another scream. That was when the blade entered again, but this time through the back of his skull, and coming out from his mouth. The Strongboar's eyes went wide for a mere second, a look of horror and fear etched across his face before his eyes rolled back, and he fell forward, when his attacker withdrew his sword.

"Ser Loras? Are you alright?" Came the voice of the Strongboar's killer.

Loras pulled himself to his feet despite the pain in his left fore-arm. "Aye..." He nodded as his eyes studied the facial features of his savior. "Lord Stark...you...you saved my life when you could have just ignored...you have my utmost gratitude and my respect." He inclined his head in respect. The young Stark nodded. He walked towards the fallen form of the Ser Lyle Crakehall and gave the body a hard kick. "Not so ferocious now aren't ye?" He spat. As the fighting died around them, a Baratheon outrider wearing the colors of Dragonstone rode up next to them.

"Ser Loras, we've utterly crushed the enemy. About thirteen thousand of theirs lie dead on this field!"

"And what about the other thousand?"

Robb answered this. "The rest have striked their banners and declared themselves for Jon, I've seen them and fought alongside them. They're no trouble." Loras nodded in acknowledgment.

"And our own losses?" Loras asked, dreading the response.

"Four hundred dead and a hundred more wounded." The Dragonstone rider informed him. Loras closed his eyes. Four hundred men under his command were dead, their lives taken away from them, never to see their loved ones again. But this was war, and casualties was nothing but one of the many horrors of conflict. He would have to mourn them later, for now, he has to organize and rally the survivors. "I also bring word from the rear." The outrider spoke up again. "Ser Estermont sends word that smoke and fire can be seen near Harrenhal, His Grace's host has clashed with the Lannisters, he requests your permission to lead his riders to aid the King." He continued.

"Granted." Loras immediately replied. "Ask him to take as many riders as he can. His Grace's safety is paramount." The outrider nodded and nearly rode off before Robb Stark spoke.

"Torrhen. Eddard." Robb called the two sons of Rickard Karstark to his side. "Gather up what men you can and aid Ser Estermont. Show the Lannisters that the North stands with the rightful King." The two Karstarks nodded and left, the outrider from Dragonstone bowed his head and rode off as well. "Come, Ser Loras, we must tend to your wounds. And perhaps, we can discuss...a possible alliance." He paused and allowed himself to smirk. "Have I mentioned that I bested the Kingslayer?"

Loras cracked a grin. "I believe this is the start of a long and prosperous friendship between us, Lord Stark." He stated plainly.

The two laughed as they walked side by side back into the midst of cheering soldiers.

This was a day that would be written down in the history books as a major victory.

* * *

 **Westerling-Brax Rebel Host (Ser Raynald Westerling)**

If anyone had told him that Tywin Lannister himself would turn against the ideals of his own family, he might have laughed and called that man a liar. But having heard the very words from the Old Lion himself, and being ordered to turn against the Iron Throne for the greater good of the Seven Kingdoms, he knew that Tywin was not a man to be trifled with. The Old Lion loved his family. Yes, no one can deny that. But the man was no fool. It was clear that Jon Baratheon had the rightful claim and many of the lords in the Westerlands have been planning since the outbreak of the war to switch sides, but most had remained loyal due to fear. But for how long. After that meeting in the command tent, Raynald went to find his old friend per Tywin's suggestion and with just a few words, Tytos Brax and three hundred men from Hornvale journeyed with him.

"Fancy day for a war, no?" The voice of Tytos interrupted his thoughts.

"Aye, but we have not seen any hostiles ever since we left Oxcross. Apart from slitting the throats of a few night sentries to clear our path..." Raynald answered with a sigh. "We've been marching the entire night. The men longed for a fight, they're eager to spill the blood in the name of Jon. But I don't think we'll be getting any kills today." He said sadly. He longed to be at Jon's side this very instant, fighting together with his brother in all but blood.

"I think we might get some blood today." Tytos informed, eyes narrowing at the horizon.

Raynald followed his friend's gaze and came face to face with a massive battle. Near the hills of the impregnable fortress of Harrenhal were hundreds if not thousands of soldiers clashing together, fires burned from several of the towers, screams of dying men filled the air. The smell of fresh blood only became more evident as they got closer. His eyes scanned the battleground and noticed several banners from the Stormlands and a small minority from the Reach, his eyes then zeroed in on the banner of the Stag, but this one had a Direwolf sharing the stage on a field of white. He knew that banner anywhere, for he had seen it a couple of times in King's Landing. After being betrothed to Arya Stark of the North, Jon changed his personal sigil to include a Direwolf to show his new relationship with the Starks and the northsmen. He turned towards the banners of the Westerlands and widened his eyes in horror.

Three black dogs on a field of yellow. The very sigil of House Clegane. Which clearly meant that the infamous and most feared knight in all of the Seven Kingdoms was present on the field this very moment.

"The Mountain..." Tytos cursed, his eyes mirrored the fear and shock in his friend. "What shall we do? Continue on to Storm's End?"

Raynald shook his head. "Nay, we can't. Jon's here." He pointed to the banner in the heart of the battle he saw beforehand. "If he's here, the might of the Stormlands is here. We can prove our loyalty by taking the fight to Clegane's men. Aye, the Iron Throne will learn of our treachery by nightfall but who really cares, Lord Tywin entrusted me with the protection of Jon, and I intend to see it done." He stated confidently.

"Well said brother!" Tytos smiled grimly, his hand resting on the pommel of his sword. "I shall follow you into the depths of the seven hells, you know that. Now, I believe the men needs some inspiring words, we are, after all, going to fight against Clegane."

"Men of the Crag! Of Hornvale! Hear me!" Raynald yelled as he turned his horse around to face the assembled westermen. "After today, we'll be branded as traitors by the Iron Throne and all of the Westerlands will see us as enemies and we will have no other choice but to kill our own kinsmen. But it is for the best. Jon Baratheon! Your King! Our King! Is the rightful King of Westeros! Not that boy king that the Queen regent and the other lords support! If you ride with us into the heart of the battle, you may come face to face with the Mountain...Ser Gregor Clegane." He caught the glimpse of fear passing through the eyes of every men, including the most bravest knights of the Crag. "Aye, if we fight, we might die. But know that we are dying for a great cause, there is no cause in this entire damn continent that I'll gladly lay down my life for! The Old Gods of the Forests and the Seven are watching our very action today, the Children will welcome us should we fall and the Father would grant us a seat by his side if we are to die today! Have courage men! Let's show the Mountain how real soldiers fight!"

The men of the Crag and Hornvale chanted loudly.

"Lead us Ser Raynald!" They cried in one loud voice.

Raynald drew out his blade and pointed it towards the heart of the enemy. "Raise the banners! Sound the charge!" A trumpeter blew the war horn. "Ride now! Ride now! Onwards men! To victory!"

Tytos mirrored his friend's actions. "FORWARD!" He roared, kicking his horse to a gallop.

The westermen under the command of the Mountain, at first, believed that reinforcements from Oxcross had arrived to render their aid but all hopes of being reinforced were cast aside when Ser Raynald cuts down the flag-bearer of House Clegane. The charge made by the cavalry from the Crag and Hornvale took out many of the Mountain's men by surprise, many were trampled to death by the powerful horse charge and hundreds were impaled by the lances. Raynald jammed his blade through the chest of Polliver, one of the Mountain's ruthless men apart from several others, the blade went straight through and emerged on the other side. A cry of outrage came from his right, he dodged the decapitation attempt and stabbed the man-at-arms in the back, he might not have known it but he had just slain the Tickler, the most ruthless interrogator under the Mountain's employ. He spurred his horse through the thick of the field, making very sure to stay clear of the charging Baratheon and Reach troops, a quick thrust from a Clegane pike caused his steed to rear in fright. Hence, he fell off his horse and landed on his back. He picked himself up and easily cleaved his way past numerous enemies before a towering shadow loomed before him. His eyes widened in fear.

For before him stood Ser Gregor Clegane, clad in the heaviest and thickest plate armor in the Seven Kingdoms, the armor itself is so heavy that no mere mortal would be able to move, let alone fight effectively while wearing it. A plate helm with only a narrow slit for vision, atop of which is a stone fist punching up towards the sky protected his face. In his right hand was a six-foot, two-handed greatsword, that very sword was known to have hacked enemies in half with just a single blow. On his left was an extremely thick oaken shield bearing the three black dogs of House Clegane, it was said that no sword could ever penetrate the shield due to its thickness. No man had ever stood before the Mountain and lived to tell the tale. The Mountain spoke first, his voice as deep as a cavern.

"You treacherous cunt!" He growled loudly. "I will enjoy cutting you apart Westerling."

"Not today dog." Raynald taunted. He heard another war horn and his eyes lit with hope when he saw the banners of the North over the other end of the field, accompanied by several others from the Stormlands. "Looks like the northsmen has arrived from Riverrun. You know what that means Clegane? The Kingslayer has lost. About bloody time to." He readied his blade.

The Mountain swung his blade forward and Raynald wisely ducked to the ground and narrowly avoided being cleaved in half, he studied the attack patterns carefully and noticed that the Mountain needed some time to recover before he could swing again. Taking this opportunity, he dodged every single strike and hacked his blade against the thick armor, most of his strikes were rattled off and had no effect. But a selective few managed to find its mark inside the boiled leather. Those few cuts only made the Mountain even more angrier, Raynald watched as the Mountain tossed aside his shield and removed his visor helm and resumed the attack. Several brave Baratheon and men from the Crag attempted to come to his aid only to meet their end at Gregor's blade, their cries only fueled Raynald's determination to put an end to the reign of terror in Westeros. The Mountain thrust his blade forward, Raynald went prone and picked up a spear, he rolled to avoid being smashed by the Mountain's heavy boots before making use of the spear to slice at the legs. The Mountain let out a loud howl of agony as he crashed to his knees, his six-foot blade falling to the ground with him.

Ser Raynald stood over the fallen warrior. "Tywin Lannister sends his regards." He whispered. A look of shock formed on the face of Gregor Clegane moments before Raynald ended his life. With one swift stroke, Raynald removed the Mountain's head from its shoulders.

Ser Gregor Clegane, otherwise known as the Mountain-That-Rides is no more. With his death, the remaining westermen faltered and started to flee from the field but were easily cut down by Karstark cavalry. Not a single westerlander fighting for House Clegane left the field that day. It was a complete slaughter. A total massacre that would be remembered for years to come.

The fighting around seemed to cease, and for a moment time itself was frozen as all eyes were upon the killer of the Mountain. Be it Baratheon or Tyrell, the awestruck look on their faces was more than enough to convince Raynald that a new title was about to be added to his list. Loud cheers soon came from the men of the Crag, bellowing out his name as if he had just won the Iron Throne. The chanting was then taken up by the men from Hornvale, and slowly, the entire field was chanting his name over and over again.

"Westerling! Westerling! WESTERLING!" The men cried over and over again.

Raynald held his head high at the praise coming from all around, he soon heard the sound of men parting and he held his breath when his childhood friend came before him. The two stared at each other for what seemed like an eternity before grasping each and other, smiles that nearly reached their eyes.

"You old bastard!" Jon stated with a glint of amusement. "It's about time you came to my side."

"It's all that I ever wanted, Your Grace." Raynald answered with a grin. To prove his allegiance, he laid his sword at Jon's feet much to the lad's protest. "I, Ser Raynald of House Westerling, along with my men do hereby pledge our fealty to Jon of House Baratheon, First of His Name, King of the Andals and the First Men, Lord of the Seven Kingdoms, and Protector of the Realm. Will you accept us into your service?"

"Get up you oaf, of course I do!" Jon said, extending his hand to pull his friend to his feet. He stared at the banners and noticed another beside the sigil of House Westerling. The amethyst unicorn of House Brax. "And I also accept your fealty Tytos!" He yelled causing the said knight to laugh. His eyes then zeroed in on the headless body of the feared Mountain. "I'll be damned, you actually killed the Mountain...you really killed him. I thought it was some sort of mistake when the soldiers starting cheering your name." He whistled in admiration. "I think I'll call you Mountain Slayer from now on in retribution of you naming me the White Wolf." Raynald opened and closed his mouth before nodding in agreement. Jon smiled and faced the crowd. "Gather up our fallen so we can honor them with proper funerals. Have the healers tend to our wounded at once. Let the armies of my traitor brother know this, never again will the lands of my people fall into his hands! Harrenhal! Has been reclaimed! Tonight, we celebrate our great victory! Tonight, we feast!" The men cheered once more.

"You know..." Jon said softly, his eyes filled with mirth. "Arya is going to hammer you with questions since you took out the Mountain single-handedly." Raynald groaned at his feat. "Talking about her, it's about time I ride for Riverrun. My uncle Stannis is escorting her there along with...her lord father.."

"I'm sorry." Raynald apologized. "He...he was an honorable man."

"He shouldn't have died like this." Jon added grimly. "He should have died like all northsmen. With a weapon in his hands and a song on his lips. Where was I when he needed me most...I should have been there with him when he confronted Joffrey."

"Then you would have died." Raynald stated firmly. "Though you are family, the Queen regent would have you imprisoned in the black cells or have you deported to the Wall to take the Black. But knowing Joffrey and what a prick he is, he'll probably sent some assassins to finish what the Queen regent can't, and that is getting rid of you once and for all." He continued with narrowed eyes. "And with your death, your uncles would fight against one another." Jon sighed at how right Raynald's words were. The two continued to walk towards the gates of Harrenhal. "Here," Raynald spoke up once more, lifting a sealed parchment before Jon's eyes.

"A gift from Lord Tywin. For your eyes only." He stated before walking off, leaving Jon alone to his thoughts.

* * *

 **Harrenhal (Jon Baratheon)**

Staring at the sigil of House Lannister made Jon's blood boil, it was a Lannister spear that killed Eddard Stark and it was Lannister men that raided the villages, but he knew he couldn't blame his grandfather for the actions of the Westerlords. Venturing to a secluded location with the very halls of Harrenhal after ensuring his assigned protectors that no harm will come to him, not when he had Ghost at his side, it took some convincing but the sworn knights left him alone. He locked the door behind him, he lighted a small candle to brighten up the dark room, his finger hovered above the seal and he hesitated for a brief second before breaking it completely. He un-scrolled the parchment and read the contents.

 _Your Grace,_

 _You must take heed to my words Jon, what I wrote in this very piece of paper is valuable to the outcome of this accursed war that your oaf of a brother started. Firstly, I would like to extend my sympathies for the lost of Lord Eddard Stark, we never saw eye to eye on many occasions but he was an honorable man above all. Perhaps, too honorable but his loyalty to King Robert and hence you was astounding from what my daughter wrote in a private letter. Your mother stated clearly in her letter that I must support the crown for the sake of our family. And the Stranger take me, but she is right. I cannot publicly stand by your side but know that I support your claim wholeheartedly. Rest assured that I'm secretly working on a plan to add more swords to your cause._

 _But be warned. Even though I support you along with a few of my vassals, there are those that are extremely loyal to the Iron Throne and have taken their men to King's Landing. Remember these Houses well, and when the time comes, punish them severely for their treasonous acts. Clegane. Lorch. Swyft. Marbrand. Payne. Prester. Spicer. Stackspear. Crakehall. These few have chosen to support the Iron Throne and have left Oxcross to conduct their own series of raids along the Riverlands despite my strict orders. I cannot act and stop the men from pillaging the small folk. But you can. Send whatever men you can and secure the entire water line from the Red Fork to the Trident, defend those positions and you'll deal a devastating blow to the Westerlands. I'll try to support you by sending outriders from my own retinue to join you every now and then._

 _You must also take heed of the Krakens in the east. Once you join your House with the Starks, the northsmen will become your allies and kinsmen, and you must know how to protect them. The Ironborn are growing restless, my scouts reports that there are several activities going on across the waters, most likely an assembly for war. With the Seven Kingdoms plunged into combat, there are lands right for the picking and the Ironborns are the ones to do it. The North will be their target. Protect them from the Kraken threat, and they'll be indebted to you. In the mean time, I'll wait out here at Oxcross until the time comes for me to join you. You'll know when._

 _Your loyal servant,_

 _Tywin Lannister_

Jon stared at the words for almost an eternity before hovering it above the candle and watched it burn away from existence, no one must know that his grandfather is loyal to him. Not yet at least. He unlocked the door and walked out into the courtyard, he glanced up towards the battlements and smiled grimly at his banner flying proudly in the wind. Harrenhal has been reclaimed. The Mountain is dead, slain by his childhood friend. Riverrun is free. And nearly thirteen thousand Lannisters were sent to meet the gods above. The casualties on his side were fairly mild, this wasn't his first time killing someone but this was his first major battle and he felt nothing but a sense of pride. He recalled the adrenaline rushing through his veins when he led the charge against the Mountain's men, he remembered the sense of justice when he saw Clegane's decapitated head. He shook his thoughts aside and ventured into the great hall, banners of House Clegane were being cut down and replaced with his own, his friends were already inside by the time he entered.

"You look troubled." Tytos commented drily, taking a sip from his mug. "Tell us, what troubles you?"

"The Ironborn." Jon replied. The two knights sat up at once.

"What about them?" Raynald pressed.

"They're gearing up for war. Dozens of longships have been sighted along the coasts of Pyke." Jon answered with a frown. Raynald knew where he got the information from. "We have to warn the North. I have to warn Robb."

"Robb's at Riverrun." Tytos stated softly. "I can go in your stead."

Any replies from Jon was cut off when two men about their age walked in, they were garbed in northern leather with the sigil of House Karstark embroiled on their coats. Jon beamed at them and welcomed them into the hall.

"Your Grace, it's an honor to finally meet you." One of the men said with a swift bow.

"I was greatly honored fighting by your side." The other one added.

Jon nodded and patted their shoulders. "The honor was mine Ser. I thank you for cutting down that rider before he could get the best of me. If you hadn't been there, I wouldn't even be here. So aye, you have my thanks." He replied. "Now I'm afraid, I haven't got your names Sers."

"Eddard of House Karstark." The first one answered.

"Torrhen Karstark." The second one said.

"You came directly from Riverrun, didn't ye?" Tytos asked. The two nodded. "Have you seen my lord father?" He paused at the confused looks and slapped himself inwardly. "Forgive me, my name is Tytos Brax. My father was commanding our forces at Riverrun, I was wondering if you have any news of him."

Torrhen bit his lips and bowed his head. Tytos feared the worst. It was Eddard that delivered the final blow.

"Lord Andros Brax fell to the blade of the Kingslayer, he declared his support for the rightful heir of the Iron Throne before dying. Our liege lord, Robb Stark has your family sword, he will be insistent on returning it to you." Eddard said softly. "I'm sorry...Know that he was valiant for taking on Jaime Lannister alone...and he died with honor."

Tytos was taken aback by the news, but he nodded nonetheless. Was it acceptance, he did not know. But in the eyes of gods and men, he was the Lord of House Brax now. The Lord of Hornvale. The leader of nearly six thousand westermen. Time to strike away the title of Ser, and to take on the rightful title of Lord. How he hated that. He wasn't the one to lead. He was more of a fighter. A protector. Not a leader. But he had to be. "Thank you...for delivering the news." He thanked the Karstarks before facing Jon with determination in his eyes. "Like my father before me, you have my loyalty. I vow to you that I will not leave your side in any event, be it victory or defeat. My blade stands ready to meet the blood of your foes, and I would gladly kick down the walls of King's Landing should you ever give the word."

"You've earned my friendship back at Casterly Rock. I know you're ready for this. You've been training for years and now it's time to show the other westerlords how real lords fight." Jon placed his right hand on top of his friend's left shoulder. "I'm sorry...Losing someone close to you has always been...drastic. Sorry, not one to show that kind of emotions." Tytos smiled grimly. Jon returned the gesture. "We'll rest here for the night and move out to Riverrun at first light. The men deserve a rest and I dd promise them a fest."

"Well!" Raynald clapped his hands together. "Putting aside all these sad talk about our fallen. We should prepare ourselves a grand feast! Curtsey of the stores of Harrenhal! So who's coming with me to check what the Mountain has in store for us. Hope he does have fresh clean kills." Everyone shared a laugh at the sarcastic joke.

"You know, we should probably send his head to King's Landing." Tytos commented amidst the laughter. "It'll shock the Queen regent off that bloody throne."

"Nay, leaving it on a spike in the middle of the field is much better." Jon waved that off.

"Or send it to Dorne." Torrhen pointed out. Four eyes snapped to him. He cringed at the stares. "To ensure neutrality in the war. We cannot risk the Dornish rising up in rebellion." He stated firmly.

"That...that's not a bad idea." Raynald mused quietly. "The Martells are always after the Mountain after he brutally raped Elia Martell before bashing her skull in and butchered her children right in front of her eyes..." He paused and looked at Jon. "But the Mountain didn't act on Lord Tywin's command, I recall Lord Tywin telling us that he strictly instructed Clegane to detain the royal children not kill them, and that resulted in the falling out between House Lannister and House Clegane, Lord Tywin never forgave the Mountain for disobeying his orders. If it isn't Lord Tywin..." He stared at everyone. "...then who in the seven hells commanded Clegane to butcher the royal family?"

The entire great hall fell silent.

That one question that everyone wanted to know was.

Who gave the command. Was it Robert. Or someone else within the Westerlands.


	4. The Mustering of the Stag

**Chapter Four: The Mustering of the Stag**

* * *

 **Riverrun (Myrcella Baratheon)**

Myrcella Baratheon, that was the name she chose for herself and it was what Jon would insist despite the rumors of how she was conceived. She hated her mother for it, but she hated her birth father even more so. Just thinking about it makes her blood boil. How could the uncle that she looked up to, a prideful knight of the Kingsguard, break the very Chasity vow that he swore to bed his very own sister and to conceive not one but three children. Jon's last words to her was to stay in Storm's End with Renly and to bide her time until King's Landing is taken, but being a ward in the Rock meant disobeying that very command. Thus, she chose to ride out to Riverrun instead, accompanying Arya Stark and her uncle Stannis in escorting the lifeless corpse of the late Eddard Stark to the northsmen in the Riverlands. She could see the remains of the once mighty siege armies littered around the keep of House Tully, hundreds if not thousands of bodies still lay in the pool of their own blood and a dozen more lay floating in the Red Fork. The stench of death was evident in the air, the smell of dried blood caused the atmosphere to turn foul, and the Silent Sisters of the Seven were busy tending to the wounded soldiers despite the colors and gathering up the dead.

She recalled strongly how their entourage was received by the northsmen. She stayed silent as her uncle did all the talking before Arya had a turn of a short reunion, but that very reunion was cut short by the loud wails of Lady Catelyn. A man almost twice the size of any man present beat his chest in fury and made promises of vengeance against his fallen friend. A bearded man bearing the insignia of the Karstarks clenched his fists and said nothing, but the fire in his eyes was enough. The other northern lords had different reactions, some had their heads bowed in solemn mourning, the others were pounding the ground with absolute fury. Who could blame them for their actions? If it was Jon showing up in a wooden cart with lifeless eyes, she would have cursed the very name of the Seven and the Old Gods. She had returned the Stark family ancestral sword to the new Lord of Winterfell before quietly slipping away. Mostly because she felt like an intruder by standing there while the northsmen paid their respects to their fallen kin. Now, she sat atop the western tower overlooking the road to Harrenhal watching the road for any signs of Jon's banner. She wasn't worried. Honestly. But the huge column of smoke and the vultures flying in circles had her heart wrenching for news, be it good or bad.

She was about to give up and return to the courtyard below when she saw them. The largest army the Seven Kingdoms had ever seen riding and marching down the long stretch of road, she beamed up proudly when she caught sight of Jon riding at the head of the army with a dozen lords arrayed to his left and right. She saw Raynald Westerling riding by Jon's side, a huge grin across his face as he held a spear aloft in his hands, and impaled on that very spear was the decapitated head of Ser Gregor Clegane, otherwise known as the Mountain. She had to smile at that. It was no small feat to beat that giant of a man, but to actually kill him, now that was a story she wanted to hear. Her eyes studied the other figures until she spotted Tytos Brax. Lord Brax. She remembered. He was a lord now ever since his father fell at Riverrun, killed by the Kingslayer. Upon hearing the loud cheers and hoots from below, she quickly tightened her quiver of arrows and strapped on her sword before climbing down the tower.

"White Wolf! White Wolf! White Wolf!" Chanted the northsmen as Jon Baratheon rode through the gates of Riverrun.

To put it simply. Jon was gobsmacked if not shocked by the sudden appearance of Myrcella, he rubbed his eyes and slapped himself to ensure himself that he wasn't hallucinating. Raynald and Tytos did not seem that surprised by her being here. "Stop gawking at me already." She grumbled. Jon closed his mouth and tried to look stern. "Hold your tongue before you lose it." She growled just as Jon opened his mouth to speak, mostly to chide her for disobeying orders. "After all the years we spent together at Casterly Rock, you should have realized by now that I do not let you do things on your own. You can frown and curse all you want brother but that ain't going to change a single thing, I'm not leaving even if you turn the entire army against me. You need me here at the front lines, and at the front is where I'll be." She ignored the skeptical looks from the northsmen. As a matter of fact, no men or women of the North has seen her in action so she decided to show them exactly what she's made of. "And don't you forget who's the better marksman here." She was about to continue when Jon raised his hand in surrender.

"Alright, you win." Jon sighed and rubbed his temple. He stood to his full height. "I'm giving you command of the levy archers from our own House. They belong to Uncle Renly. They're a little rusty and many of them are recently drafted and most had not even fought in a battle before. If you can train them to become as deadly as you are..." He gave her a small smile. "...maybe we can discuss something about you leading your own detachment of troops. That's only if you prove yourself to me."

Myrcella answered the challenge with a grin. "Give me six days and those levy archers will become the deadliest archers in your entire army, I swear this upon my entire collection of books." Jon held back a chuckle at her vow, even she resisted the urge to laugh. It was a dumb joke that they shared with each other when they were younger, she was about six when they came up with it. Without glancing anywhere, she pointed a finger towards a random northern knight from House Umber. "You. Gather up twenty good men and have them clear the bodies from the western ridge by nightfall. Once you're done with clearing the dead, set up some targets all across the ridge from left to right, I don't care how you put it or what armor you choose to give the dummies but I want them done." She narrowed her eyes as she whirled her head around. "What are you waiting for? My late father to rise from his grave? Get."

The knight immediately scrambled off while barking orders to his squire.

An awkward silence flooded the courtyard before Jon started to laugh. He was soon joined by the bulk of the Baratheon forces, especially those that knew how she ran things by now. Even her uncle Stannis managed to crack a small grin. It was a shame that her other uncle was stuck in Storm's End with the other half of the army, patiently waiting for the day to storm the capital from the north while the main army took it from the south. While on the way to Riverrun, totally out of curiosity Arya Stark had asked her the question that was on Stannis' mind; why did she choose to ride out with them instead of staying secured at Storm's End where she would be safe. She briefly explained that she hated and doubted the presence of the red woman, something which she shared in common with Davos Seaworth, Stannis' right hand man and loyal adviser. They both had doubts about the red woman's presence in the Baratheon camp. Not that she disrespected R'hllor or any of the followers of the lord of light. It was mainly due to the fact that the red woman took the religious fervor a little too far that it sickened her, preaching about her faith was one thing but she did not have to openly defy the other gods as false deities. And she would never forget how the red woman burned the statues of the Seven as an offering to R'hllor, causing shouts of blasphemy from the lords of the Reach.

That was what prompted her to leave the safety of Storm's End.

She was most probably safer in the company of a large host anyway.

And there was much more things she could do here. Her first task was to prove herself to her brother that she could lead and gain the right to sit on his war council, and then she would consider teaching her soon to be sister-in-law how to properly waltz with a blade as thin as a needle. Yes, that was the plan that she created in her mind as she moved away from the talks that were about to happen between Robb Stark and her brother. "Come on Ghost, let's leave your master to talk while we go and hunt." She whistled as the white direwolf trotted after her with its tail wagging so fast that it would have left a mark if someone got hit with it. Jon gave her a halfhearted glare. "Don't worry brother. I won't spoil him with treats." She promised before she winked. "Not!" She corrected before sprinting off with Ghost tagging along behind her.

Jon's yells of protest died the moment she slammed the door shut.

* * *

 **Castle Black (Eddison Tollett)**

Taking the vow of the Night's Watch meant cutting all ties to family matters and taking your rightful place among the watchers on the Wall, that was what Eddison Tollett believed in when he was recruited into the Watch by Yoren. He wouldn't have left his family home in the Vale for the Night's Watch if he hadn't grown up in poverty despite coming from a lesser noble house sworn to House Royce of the Vale, his family were essentially living on the same level as peasants. But after swearing his oath and becoming a ranger, he was starting to have his own doubts of the values of the Watch. The once great illustrious order had fallen to a pale comparison to what it was like before, back when Bran the Builder first raised the Wall. A long time ago, serving the Watch meant a true honor and many sons of great noble houses would line up to swear the oath, but now the Watch had to rely on criminals and scumbags from the prisons in King's Landing. Edd sighed for the eighteenth time since his arrival.

"Hello." He heard the voice from a new recruit of the Watch. "Ser Alliser said I'm to be your new watch partner." He gave the owner of the voice a nod. "I should warn you. I don't see that well."

"Come stand by the fire." Edd replied gruffly, turning to face the real north. "It's warmer." He added after sensing the lad's hesitation.

"No, that's all right. I'm fine."

"You're not. You're freezing." Edd said pointedly. The new recruit reluctantly shuffled closer to the fire to keep warm. "You can't fight. You can't see. You're afraid of heights and almost everything else probably." He stated as he turned his weary gaze towards the recruit. "What are you doing here, Sam?"

Sam, as the recruit is now known looked back. "On the morning of my eighteenth nameday, my father came to me. 'You're almost a man now,' he said. 'But you're not worthy of my land and title. Tomorrow, you're going to take the Black, forsake all claim to your inheritance and start north. If you do not.' he said, 'we'll have a hunt and somewhere in these woods your horse will stumble and you'll be thrown from your saddle to die. Or so I'll tell your mother. Nothing will please me more.'" He quoted his father's parting words as Edd glanced at him in a mixture of horror. "Ser Alliser's going to make me fight tomorrow again, isn't he?"

"Yes, he is." Edd answered as Sam groaned.

"I'm not going to get any better, you know."

"Well..." Edd started to grin. "...you can't get any worse."

And with that said, the two started to laugh as a bond of friendship and brotherhood was forged atop the Wall that very night. The two were interrupted slightly by the arrival of Benjen Stark, the first ranger and the Lord Commander's trusted adviser and right hand man, the duo quickly stood to attention before the hulking man chuckled as he stood in between them.

"A fine night for a watch, don't you lads agree?" Benjen said as he stared across the frozen plains of the world beyond the Wall, he continued gazing as he spoke. "I'm leaving next morning. As the first ranger my job is out there...I swore a vow to the Watch and now my brother's dead and my nephew is leading the northsmen to fight for King Jon. I should be there with them. Fighting side by side with my fellow kinsmen. But an oath is an oath. Nothing I say or do can change it." He turned towards Sam. "Once I leave tomorrow, Ser Alliser is going to take charge. He hates me as much as I hate him. With me gone he has full reign over the recruits. I can't be around to protect you forever Tarly."

"I'll protect him when you're gone first ranger." Edd spoke up. "I'll defend him from those that want to hurt him. Like how you protected me when I first arrived."

"That's a good lad." Benjen replied as he returned his gaze towards the north. "Winter is truly coming. There's a shift in the air...I fear for what is to come."

"Whatever it is, we can face it." Edd said with firm determination.

"Nay we can't." Benjen's eyes narrowed slightly. "I fear that our enemies might not be wildlings after all...our real enemies brings with them winter and death. I've been on the Wall longer than either of you so mark my words when I say that the real war is between the living and the dead...and the dead are coming." His eyes scanned the horizon of the frozen forest, the same forest which had claimed the lives of a ranging party two weeks ago. No traces had been found. Not even the horses. "The Long Night is coming. And the dead comes with it."

"No one will believe that first ranger." Sam pointed out. "The southron lords believe it to be a legend."

"That's what I thought until I saw a wight with my own eyes."

"You saw one?" Edd interrupted in a disbelieving tone.

"Lord Commander Mormont has ordered the rangers that saw it to seal their lips, he didn't want the fresh recruits to panic and flee after hearing that a dead wight walked right into his room and made an attempt on his life if it wasn't for the quick thinking of Mormont's own steward. The rangers on watch rushed to the scene and I thrust my sword for a killing blow through the heart, and guess what, the wight just stood back up and pulled my blade out of its own chest as if it were nothing. Then in came Commander's steward, scalding his hand after throwing a torch at the wight causing it to burn to death. It gave a horrifying screech that left us a little hard of hearing for the next few hours." Benjen replied in a sharp tone that meant no nonsense. "Gendry I believe his name was. He hailed from King's Landing. A master blacksmith with his own trade secret. I thought him to be with the builders due to his talent as an armorer but the Commander saw something in him. Say as you like but the Old Bear's grooming that lad to be the next Lord Commander of the Night's Watch."

"He has...the charisma around him." Edd nodded in approval. "He has my support."

"He looks like the late King Robert, doesn't he?" Sam suddenly said.

"He does." Benjen said as a small smile played on his lips. "He's a bastard."

"Not anymore." Edd piped in with a small smirk. "He's our brother now."

* * *

 **Riverrun (Arya Stark)**

"I was worried for you." Arya Stark admitted softly, cuddling close to her betrothed, her head leaning on his muscled-toned arms. "When you rode out..." She shivered and clutched his fingers. "...I was afraid...Afraid that you wouldn't return to my embrace. Then your good sister told me 'I've been worrying about Jon for years.' she said with that smile of hers. 'But he always comes back.'" She quoted the very words from Myrcella. Jon ran a hand through her hair and she moved her head, from his arm to his chest, she stared at him with those soft eyes of hers. "And she was right...but that was just the first battle out of the hundreds more to come. What if...what if you die...what if some stray arrow strike you down...I can't bare to lose you too!" Tears started sprinkling down her eyes.

"Dry your tears," Jon said warmly, pressing the sleeve of his tunic against the water droplets on her cheeks. "Sometimes a man has to make hard choices. Choices that might seem wrong to others but you'll believe it in the long run. I can sit here in Riverrun and order some noble lord to fight for me, but that won't gain the respect of the men. They need to see their leader, their commander, their king, they need to know that they're fighting and if necessary die in the name of the king." He smiled tenderly as Arya wiped away her fallen tears. She suddenly lurched herself at him, taking him by surprise.

Arya touched his hair lightly, sliding the black strands between her fingers as her mouth met his in a fiery passion. "Jon...make love to me.." She breathed out at last. She saw the hesitation in his eyes despite how much he wanted to do just that, she placed a finger on his lips. "Shh...hush now. You just lean back and let me do all the work." Slowly, but carefully, she began to undo his armor. It took a long time. All the while Jon sat there silently, watching her with a mixture of excitement and anxiety. When she finally unhooked the final piece of plate, she gave a feral grin like a predator stalking its prey. The laces were quickly undone by her swift fingers and it wasn't long before Jon was naked as the day he was born. "Your turn, white wolf." She whispered into his ear, breathing into his neck as she did.

Jon's fingers were rough yet strangely tender. He removed her tunic, carefully while Arya stood unmoving, a gleam in her eyes and staring at his member with lust. When he bared her small breasts, she shivered slightly at the cold but quickly regained her composure. He watched as she kicked off her boots before yanking down her own breeches. And now she was standing there, completely in the nude, her young slender body inviting him for the touch. He looked at her and she nodded. He ran a hand gently down her waist while kissing passionately, he tried not to gulp when he felt her fingers going straight down. His hand slowly made their way to caressed her breast. He stopped then.

"There is no going back after this..." Jon said, and Arya knew it was a final warning.

She took his hand and moved it down to the wetness between her thighs. "I don't fucking care." She whispered as she put his finger inside her.

* * *

 **Riverrun (Robb Stark)**

It seemed a thousand years ago that Robb Stark last stepped into the great halls of Riverrun, and he had not a single memory of even visiting the place except for the pillars where he used to play. And it was passing by the pillars that he entered the great hall, though he wore plate and mail in place of swaddling clothes. He took his seat by his mother's side, facing the high seat of the Tullys where his Uncle Edmure and Brynden Blackfish had taken, and the Tully bannermen arrayed to right and left and along the side tables. Word of the great victory at Riverrun had spread to the fugitive lords of the Trident, drawing them back. Lord Tytos Blackwood came in, along with his sons, Brynden and Lucas, and they brought a Darry, Ser Raymun's son, a lad no older than Arya. Lord Janos Bracken arrived from the ruins of Stone Hedge, glowering and blustering, and took a seat as far from Tytos as the tables would permit.

The northern lords sat opposite. They were fewer in numbers as compared to the rest. The Greatjon sat at Robb's left hand, and then Theon Greyjoy, Galbart Glover and Lady Mormont were to the right of Catelyn. Lord Rickard Karstark, took his seat beaming with pride at his two sons, his huge smile could only rival that of Lord Gregor Forrester, both whom had sons sworn into the service of the King. The southron lords mostly stood protectively around their liege. They were the larger party as compared to the riverlords. Stannis Baratheon, ever stoic and cautious of his surroundings stood to the left of his nephew, a frown upon his face and his eyes ever weary. Lord Selwyn of Tarth, took his seat like a man in his nightmare, his eyes hallowed from grief. Sixty of his finest knights had died trying to storm Harrenhal and there had been no word of his daughter, Brienne whom had led Tarth spears to break the siege at Riverrun. Ser Garlan Tyrell and his brother, Loras stood behind their liege lord, they were representing not only their family but the entire Reach just by attending the council. The might of the Tyrell forces were still camped at Storm's End under the command of Renly Baratheon.

And sitting with a thoughtful gaze was Jon Baratheon, the rightful heir and the true claimant of the Iron Throne. His direwolf and familiar, Ghost laid at his feet. His sister, the Princess Myrcella sat with a steely gaze as she studied the men around her. Standing behind them are; Ser Raynald Westerling of the Crag. Lord Tytos Brax of Hornvale. Ser Rodrik Forrester of Ironrath, the latter having sworn his sword to Jon's service as a battle companion earlier. Ryon Forrester, a boy of seven and the chosen squire of Jon upon Myrcella's opinion eagerly waited by the doors. Arya Stark was denied access to the council by her mother but who could see her small size sitting next to Ghost among the crowd of men. Not even Jon himself was aware that his betrothed was hiding beneath his feet. If anyone noticed her small frame, they did not question nor ask.

There were countless of argument going on that it raged into the night. Each lord had a right to speak, and speak they did...and shout, and curse, jesting each other, slamming tankards on the table, threatening to march home and forsake their part in this war. Robb sat and listened to it all. Roose Bolton retainers still held the Twins and a small force of outriders from House Mallister was on the way to reinforce them. The Kingslayer sits in the dungeon beneath Riverrun, his sword arm missing. Lord Tywin's army was still at Oxcross with no intention to break camp. Ser Gregor Clegane lies slain on the field. And there was the troubling reports of Balon Greyjoy gearing up for a full scale invasion on the North, a huge armada of galleys and longships could be seen off the coast of the Crag according to Raynald's report.

Many of the lords bannermen wanted to march on King's Landing at once, to meet the traitors in battle and put an end to the false king. Yet there were some who counseled patience. But the southron lords and the Tyrell brothers would have none of it. Already an alliance had been formed between the northsmen and the riverlords, and both Robb and Edmure had sworn their fealty to Jon upon his arrival at Riverrun. Five of the seven great houses are now behind Jon. _Six_ , if the Arryns bestir themselves, yet there have been rumors of civil unrest in the Eyrie. Most of the northsmen tend to agree with the southron lords that the time for peace is nothing but a summer night's dream, Blackwood and Bracken seemed to agree despite the animosity between their houses. It was then Catelyn spoke much to Robb's dismay.

"Why not a peace?" She asked.

The lords looked at her in disbelief. "Mother, they murdered my lord father, your husband." Robb said grimly. He unsheathed his longsword and hacked it into the table before, the steel cutting through the rough wood so loud that it echoed around the hall. "This is the only peace I have for the cravens."

The Greatjon bellowed his approval, and other men added their voices, shouting and drawing swords or pounding their fists on the table. "Would you have us break the oath we swore to King Robert, my lady?" Asked Gregor Forrester, his arms arrayed to his left and right. "We swore a vow that we would serve the Stags, and now the true heir sits before us and you would deny us that honor at fighting by His Grace's side?" There were deep rumbles of agreement from the northsmen and a few from the riverlords. "Do you think that we do not wish for peace, my lady? We do. Old Gods curse me, I want it more than you would ever think of. You have no idea how I want to return home into the loving embrace of my beloved wife and see the faces of my daughter and son again. But alas, I cannot. Not while the false king still draws breath. And I will not return home until I pierce my sword into the heart of the false king and the cravens that serve him!" He roared.

"AYE!" Came the roar from the northsmen.

"We fought to defend ourselves, and to win my husband's freedom. And that one is done, and the other is beyond our reach. I will mourn for Ned until the end of my days, but I must think of the living. I want my eldest daughter back. I want my children safe. I want to go home, my lords, and weep for my husband." Catelyn argued causing Robb to slam his head on the table.

"Peace..." Brynden Blackfish said with a scoff. "Peace is sweet, my lady...but what good would it be when the false king calls for our heads."

"What did two hundred of our men died for, if we are to return to Highgarden with nothing but their bones?" Asked Garlan Tyrell. "I fought in King's Landing to save the late Lord Eddard. And his last words clearly meant that he would have fought beside His Grace if he was still alive, are you going to throw away Lord Eddard's word of honor?" There were then shouts of approval and agreement.

"MY LORDS!" Cried a loud voice that silenced the hall. Robb blinked twice and even Jon looked gobsmacked at the sight of Arya Stark crawling out from beneath the table. Well, from Jon's table.

"I was there when my lord father breathed his last. I was there when he looked me in the eye and swore that he would have fought beside my future husband, be it victory or death. He would have led the entire North into the heart of King's Landing if need be. And if he were alive, he would have kicked down the walls of Casterly Rock if His Grace commands him to." She spoke as all eyes turned to her. Ghost and Grey Wind came trotting to her side along with Myrcella Baratheon. The Princess gave her a curt nod. She allowed herself to smirk as she addressed the crowd once more. "Aye, there would certainly be death if we choose to fight, but if you were to sue for peace only to die in your bed many years from now...would you pray to the Seven and the Old Gods for one chance, just one chance to come back to this time and show the damned cravens how real soldiers fight!"

"AYE!" Chorused the men, and this time they were joined by the others.

Robb couldn't help but grin like a Cheshire at his sister's proclamation. "The White Wolf!" He roared, which was soon taken up by the other lords.

"White Wolf!"

"White Wolf!"

" **WHITE WOLF!"**

After the cheers and chanting had died down, Jon stood to his full height and leaned across the table as he gazed into the eyes of every single person present in the great hall. Robb couldn't help but feel a sense of pride if not respect for the boy standing before him, it was as if Robert Baratheon was back in his prime but with a little mixture of Tywin Lannister and his own lord father reincarnated into the very soul of Jon. The posture was a Stark through and through, the eyes were those of a Baratheon and the brains are those of a prideful Lannister. Jon had admitted to Robb when he visited Winterfell a few months ago that Myrcella was the better strategist than he was, and Robb had to agree. He had seen for himself just how cunning the young princess could be. Pretending to be an innocent little girl upon her arrival at Riverrun, while slowly picking out the best fighters to serve in her brother's guard as battle companions or sworn swords. Already the Forresters and Karstarks had two of their own kin under Jon's employ respectively, and it wouldn't be long before the other lords start throwing their sons.

"Jon...aren't you forgetting something?" Robb heard the voice of the princess as she elbowed her older brother in the ribs, her head inclining towards the exit. "The swearing ceremony?" He remembered now. In order to fight as the sworn swords of the King, one has to swear an oath of fealty to no other but Jon. "Your squire is still waiting outside...braving the cold wind." He raised a single eyebrow at Jon's frantic look as he barked for Ser Barristan to allow the child entry to the great hall. He shared a glance with Theon before rising to his feet, the northsmen followed suit before the riverlords rose to their feet as well as a sign of acknowledgment. He couldn't help but pity the young lad as he entered, escorted by the most famed swordsman in the Seven Kingdoms, garbed in coat and mail bearing the sigil of Ironrath.

It must have been intimating stepping into a room filled to the brink to become the center of attention, that was exactly how Ryon Forrester felt as he came to a halt before the King. The boy swallowed his fears before dropping to a knee, his head bowed and his eyes lowered as the Baratheon king hovered before him with a longsword stabbed to the ground. "I, Ryon of House Forrester, fourth-born son of Gregor Forrester, Lord of Ironrath...hereby pledge my fealty to Jon of the House Baratheon, the true heir of the Iron Throne and the rightful king. I offer you my service, Your Grace." For a boy of seven, Robb had to concede defeat and admit that the lad had courage despite stuttering a little in the middle of his oath. It takes gut to speak in the presence of a dozen lords. And that boy sure has a lot of 'em.

All eyes watched as Jon gently grasped the boy's arm and pulled him up. "And gladly. I accept it. You shall be Ryon, Esquire of House Baratheon." He announced for the entire hall to hear. "Let this day be known that Ryon of House Forrester will serve at my side as my personal squire, he will carry my standard on the field of battle and is hereby granted access to all war councils." The northsmen hollered their approval as Ryon beamed with pride for being accepted into the King's service. Small polite applause came from the southron and riverlords.

The doors opened once more, this time with much force as Ser Arys Oakheart burst in.

"A raven, Your Grace! From Lord Tywin! There's been discord in the Lannister camp! Several noble houses and landed knights have turned traitor, they torched the food stores and stole all the horses in the dead of the night! They're coming, Your Grace!" The young Kingsguard cried, his face drenched in sweat from sprinting across Riverrun. "Marbrand. Hawthorne. Lorch. Payne. Lefford. Spicer. Nearly thirty thousand strong from the report."

A deathly silence filled the hall as all eyes turned towards the only man they all trust.

Robb turned his gaze to his old friend and saw the grim look in his eyes. "Then they leave us no choice but to meet them in combat." Jon declared as he stood to his full height looking the very bit of how a future king should look, he turned his gaze towards the Lord of Winterfell and Edmure Tully.

"Muster your banners." It wasn't a request. It was a command.

Robb didn't need to be told twice as he signaled his bannermen to assemble their men, and presently the trumpets rang throughout Riverrun and were answered by many others in the camps outside; but their voices no longer sounded clear and brave as they had seemed to Robb the night before. Dull they sounded. As knights rushed to their horses and the soldiers went into a marching formation, the Lord of Winterfell started to understand the horrors of war. He now knew why his father hated riding out to fight.

So it was that amid a gathering gloom that the northsmen assembled, Jon atop his massive steed and Ghost at his side, ready to lead all his bannermen and allies out of Riverrun. Hearts were heavy and many had second thoughts of leaving a secured zone. But the northsmen were a stern people, loyal to their liege lord until the end of times. He had bid his mother and sister farewell as he saddled up his horse. A brief exchange from the princess made him swear to keep Jon in his sight. Lady Catelyn would stay for a few days before being escorted home to Winterfell. Arya and Myrcella will stay in the safety of Riverrun with at least a thousand men sworn to House Baratheon.

There on the vast fields beside the noisy river marshaled the largest army the Seven Kingdoms have ever seen, seventy three thousand men fully armed to the teeth. A single trumpet sounded. Jon raised his hand, and then silently the great host began to move. Foremost went twelve of the king's household-men, knights of renown. Then the king followed with Stannis on his right and little Ryon on his left, the latter carrying the king's standard.. He had said farewell to Arya and Myrcella in the great hall, and their short reunion was bittersweet; but now he turned his mind to the road that lay ahead. Behind him was Ser Barristan and Ser Arys with the other sworn swords of the king, and behind them again were twelve more of the king's household. They passed down the long ranks of waiting men with stern and unmoved faces.

"Now is the hour. Men of the North!" Robb bellowed, spurring his horse in a circle as he rounded on the massive host of northsmen. "Oaths you have taken. Now, fulfill them all! To lord and land!" And with that said, he slapped the reins of his horse to catch up with Jon's company of men.

The loyalist faction of House Baratheon is marching to war.

* * *

 **Eyrie (Yohn Royce)**

Lord Yohn Royce thought long and hard about what he was about to do. He had always been skeptical about his former liege lord's death, it was rumored that the late Jon Arryn had passed from illness back in the capital but he had his own doubts but never acting on it. That was until a raven arrived bearing the insignia of Lord Tywin Lannister. Inside the missive was a detailed letter that revealed the unusual relationship between the Lady Lysa and Petyr Baelish, putting two on two was simple after reading the note. The doubt that he had once harbored deep within his heart started to resurface and it was clear that Lady Lysa was unfit to rule the Vale and it was up to him and the other lord bannermen to seize power and join in the war effort on the side of the true king. They moved in the dead of the night and took young Robin from his chamber by force, killing a few guards that were actually sellswords hired by Petyr to protect a dead secret. Giving a slight nod to Uthor Tollett, one of his vassals and the Lord of the Grey Glen, the doors swung open to the High Hall of the Eyrie where Lady Lysa sat atop the high seat.

"What is the meaning of this?!" Lysa Arryn demanded, eying the Lord of Runestone with distaste.

"Troubling news, my lady." Yohn spoke gruffly, his hand resting on the pommel of his sword. "A raven arrived earlier this morning at the Bloody Gate bearing the insignia of Lord Tywin, and what he wrote had many of our hearts beating in confusion." He watched as Lysa reeled back in horror. "He clearly states in his letter that you conspired with Petyr Baelish to poison and eventually murder our liege lord, the late Jon Arryn. If you had been careful in your plot, I would have refused to believe Lord Tywin's claim but when our coffers turned out empty the last time I checked, I begin to suspect that Lord Tywin is telling the truth. And you, my lady, is henceforth declared unfit to rule."

"Lies! This is a conspiracy to frame me!" Lysa cried with a look of outrage. "Guards! Seize him!"

"Draw your swords and you're dead men." Declared Horton Redfort, the Lord of Redfort. His hand reached for his sword, and when he did so too did the others that came with Yohn Royce.

The guards of the Eyrie hesitated.

"You traitors!" Lysa screeched as she stood to her feet. "I am the Lady Regent of this House, and thus I am your overlord and I command you to seize the traitors!" At this command, Ser Lyn Corbray drew his blade and charged towards the rebel lords only to be back handed by a fuming Lord of Runestone.

"ENOUGH!" Yohn roared, silencing the entire hall. "This lady, came into the Vale as a lovely bride, and there conspired to murder our beloved lord, Jon Arryn." He stated, pointing an accusing finger towards Lysa. "And now she sits in the high seat and refuses to answer the true king's call to arms, if our liege lord was alive, he would have answered the call to King Robert's son like he did during the rebellion against the Mad King." He then gestured his hand towards the door behind him. "And now, the largest army the realm has ever seen is mustering at Riverrun to back the claim of the true heir of the Iron Throne whilst we sit here and wait?! I think not! We belong down there. Fighting in the name of the Vale." There were nods and murmurs of agreement from the various soldiers, including those that stood beside Lady Lysa.

"What shall we do with Lady Lysa, my lord." Asked one of the soldiers.

"Escort Lady Lysa to her chambers and keep her there under guard." Lysa watched in horror as her own men turned against her, her people, her handmaidens, every single living person in the room had turned against her to side with Lord Royce. She screamed and kicked as her own guards dragged her out of the High Hall, her cries of outrage did not seem to cease even after the guards dragged her up the stairwell and away from sight. The Lord of Runestone soon found every eye tracking his movement, every single knight and lord of the Vale are trusting him to make the right decision. "The Vale has stood by Robert Baratheon when he called the banners. Many of us had bled on the fields for the late King Baratheon. And once again, a young Baratheon calls his banners and the Wolf and Stag has answered his call, with the Rose joining the flock." He stood to his full height.

"My lords, the die is cast. We ride for the riverlands in the name of Jon Baratheon, the rightful king."

* * *

 **Oxcross (Tywin Lannister)**

The flames have died down after swords were drawn among the westerlords and a fight broke out between several great and noble houses, the landed knights took sides and those that chose the Iron Throne rode out with the traitors the day before. Those that sided with the Old Lion licked their wounds and mourned their losses. It was so sudden and totally out of the blue. Not even Tywin Lannister anticipated this treasonous attack against kinsmen. Reginald Lannister. Amory Lorch. Damon Marbrand. Rolph Spicer. Leo Lefford. All members of his war council. Reginald had started accusing Tywin of siding with the rebels and declared for all loyal to King Joffrey to stand with him, nearly thirty thousand men went over including several of Tywin's own household-men. Swords and spears were drawn as both sides clashed. Those loyal to the Iron Throne and those loyal to House Lannister.

As the uprising was somewhat a surprise, many of Tywin's men were caught unaware by the sudden betrayal and many more had died in their sleep when the traitors torched the tents. As battle raged across Oxcross, Rolph Spicer ordered his men to torch the food stores which divided Tywin's men between pursuing the traitors or saving their supplies. Tywin ordered his men to stand down and fight the flames as the traitors left the tent with nearly all the horses. The short skirmish had taken its toll and the once great host of the Westerlands have been broken down. Lord Gawen Westerling rode out from the Crag with his five thousand reserve when he saw smoke and fire rising from the camp. On Tywin's orders, Gawen had his lady wife under house arrest for fear that she would betray them to her brother, Rolph. The vassal lords of House Lannister that sided with Tywin were firm supporters of Jon's claim to the Iron Throne but refused to act in fear of retribution from the others, but now Tywin knew he was right to trust the few lords that he had spoken with.

"What are our losses." Tywin asked, walking past rows and rows of charred corpses and tents.

"Nearly six hundred dead, not counting those that died in the flames." Ser Flement Brax replied.

"Our food? Horses?"

"They torched our food stores, not a single piece of bread survived the flames." Kevan Lannister reported as he walked alongside his brother to survey the aftermath of the short skirmish between the westerlords. "They took all our horses and killed those that they couldn't take with them. I have never seen such treachery since the time with the Reyne-Tarbeck rebellion."

"Someone must have told them of my intentions to support Jon." Tywin said through gritted teeth as he turned around to face Flement. "I don't care if you have to hang a hundred men. Someone has betrayed me and I want him found. I want the truth by nightfall." He watched as Flement marched off to obey his orders. "Get the remaining men into marching formation at dusk." He said to his brother and pushed past him, not waiting for a response. He will not let this treachery slide from the books. His only hope is to march towards the capital and hopefully link up his remaining forces with his grandson, and together they will show his traitor daughter and that false king how real Lannisters fight.

"On to King's Landing." He growled darkly.

He will not back down. A Lannister never backs down.

* * *

 **Author's Note: I apologize for the long wait. I had a lot of school events those past months and wasn't able to update promptly as before. The story will be getting slower updates as of this moment, but rest assured, I have the beginning of the next chapter already filled up. And it's also mostly due to the fact that Season 6 of Game of Thrones is soon upon us and I am dying to find out the one truth that I've been trying to learn since reading the first book and watching the first episode.**

 **Is Jon Snow coming back from the dead? The Seven Kingdoms can go to the seven hells for all I care. I only care about Snow. Will he rise up from the ashes as a Targaryen like many people believe. Or will he rise from his slumber with the ancient magic of the Red God to be declared a Stark. Either way, he's free from his oath as a crow and free to do as he wills. Hope he kicks Ramsay out of Winterfell while he's at it.**


	5. The Battle of Blackwater Rush

**Chapter Five: The Battle of Blackwater Rush**

 **Blackwater (Jon Baratheon)**

The Blackwater Rush, a significant river of Westeros, flowing out of the hills and valleys of the Westerlands and proceeding eastwards for several hundred miles before flowing into Blackwater Bay. It was here where this great battle was fought. The armies of the westerland marched passed the hills and valleys, totally unaware of the great host that awaited them on the other side of the bank, they were hoping to bypass Riverrun and march north towards God's Eye to take the small garrison at Harrenhal by surprise. But Jon Baratheon was no fool. He had sent riders and scouts during the night, men from the mountain clans of the north that could trek an army without being seen, those scouts returned with the news that the westerland army was marching along the banks of the Blackwater. Jon urged his men to ride with haste to meet them in combat. He rode in the midst of the leading company, his household-men and sworn swords about him. Robb's vanguard came next; and young Ryon had rode further back until he was riding in rear of the knights of Dragonstone

"It's like Lord Tywin said, Your Grace." Stannis said. "Thirty thousand men all fully armed. But all seem unaware of our our presence. We have the element of surprise."

"Aye, and how many of their men must die for the foolishness of one man." Jon replied. He turned to the men of his household and sworn swords who were near, and he spoke now in a clear voice so that many also of the northern vanguard heard him. "The time has come, the hour is now upon us, sons of Westeros! Our foes are before you, and your homes far behind. Yet, though you fight upon alien field, the glory that you reap here shall be your own forever. They will sing songs of this day! Songs that will be remembered for generations to come!" Men clashed swords and spears upon shields.

"Robb, my friend! You will lead the cavalry," Jon said. "and it shall go behind the king's standard in the center. Ser Loras, lead your knights to the right when the battle is joined. Stannis, uncle! You shall lead the knights of our House towards the left. The others shall firmly press down in the center. Strike wherever the enemy gathers. The valley is steep and our foes cannot turn back the way they came. We will crush this army here. Forth now, and fear neither pain nor darkness!"

The leading company rode off as swiftly as they could. It was no more than a league to where the enemy's vanguard had marched. Wild cries broke out as lances lowered and swords were drawn, and there was some clash of arms, but it was brief. The vanguard of the westerland marching at the forefront were few and amazed, that they were quickly slain and cut down to the last man. Then came the war cries from the enemy's main force. Jon spurred his horse around and sprang straight into the fray, behind him his banner blew in the wind, the black stag and gray direwolf upon a field of ice-white, but he outpaced it. After him thundered the knights of his house and sworn swords, his Kingsguard followed slightly behind with the might of the Trident and Reach in tow.

The battle was joined when the two sides clashed into each other. Men raged all around, trying to better the other upon the banks of the Blackwater. Arrows swirled overhead into the ranks on both sides, fired by the archers and longbowmen in the reserve ranks, hundreds of poorly equipped knights and men-at-arms were peppered with arrows that their blood flowed into the river. Robb had rode down the center as planned and his massive northern cavalry crashed into the flanks of the unsuspecting Marbrand ranks, with Ice aloft he led his brave northsmen into the fray. Ser Loras took to the right before smashing his great host against Rolph Spicer's outriders, the Knight of Flowers went straight in for the kill. With a loud war cry erupting from his throat, Stannis led five thousand of his household-men and knights from all across the crownlands into the exposed left flank of the enemy. And in the midst of the battlefield, two direwolves pounced, gnawed and ripped off the throats of westermen, blood dripped from their coats as they went for one after another.

"Jon!" Cried Ser Raynald with a finger pointed towards the center of the enemy's main force. "Look over the horizon! It's Ser Amory Lorch! That craven behind the raids on the villages in the riverlands, apart from the Mountain of course. I heard he slaughtered the children as well!"

"That arrogant bastard! I'll take his head!" Demanded Lord Tytos as he rode to their side, his armor bloodied and sword fresh with crimson blood. "You don't know Amory as much as I do. Let me handle him, Jon." Jon gave him a sharp look despite the battle raging all around. "I'm not askin' for your permission. I'm just telling you what I intend to do."

Jon laughed as he decapitated a knight from House Payne. "Don't act too rashly out here Tytos. We wouldn't want to mourn your loss before the night is over." Tytos snorted and ordered his men forward.

Raynald sighed as he slashed right. "I hope-" He killed one man. "-that you have a good idea-" He dodged a pike that narrowly missed his eye before stabbing his attacker through the mouth that his blade emerged from the other side of the skull. "-about taking out those fucking archers!" He cried just as an arrow lodged right between his shoulder. "Argh! Fuckin' cunts..."

"Raynald!" Jon yelled, placing a hand to support his friend from falling off the saddle.

"Don't mind me! Take out the archers!" Raynald growled, grasping his wound tightly. "Ser Rodrik! Ser Garlan! Protect the king!" He ordered the other two knights fighting nearby. The knights from the north and reach swooped in to defend Jon's flank. "Push forward Jon! We'll be slaughtered by their archers if we continue to stay here! I'll retreat to the rear lines, just keep pushing!"

"I'll find you there then." Jon said with gritted teeth. "With me now! With me!" He roared to his sworn swords and household-men.

Cutting their way through the ranks of westermen, the moderate group of nearly a hundred men broke out of the clash and rode eastwards into the shadows of the trees. The enemy archers were unaware of this recent movement. As quiet as the night with Ghost at his side and sword tightly grasped in his hand, the young king gave a loud surprising war cry as he and his followers sprang out from the woods. The enemy, garbed in red linen clothing and leather armor were taken completely off guard by the bold Baratheon charge towards their flanks. His blade rippled in the glistening sun as it separated a man totally in half, he reveled in the fear and anguish in the eyes of his enemies when they started to falter. His direwolf pounced and ripped the throats and legs of unsuspecting men. Ser Rodrik came first, his mighty northern steed trampling down those that stood against him, his blade draining the life of those foolish enough to face him. Not far behind the Forrester knight was Eddard Karstark of Karhold. And behind them were forty five men from all across the stormlands.

When the last enemy archer had fallen, Jon ordered his banner to be flown as high as the eye could see.

Then he heard rumble through the trees, he watched in horror as trumpets sounded before three thousand enemy mounted knights rode out from the trees and smashed into the rear and flanks of the exposed knights from Dragonstone. Even from his position he could see the frightened look in the eyes of young Ryon, the poor lad was trembling in fear but still held onto the king's banner high in the air for all to see. He had to act or his great host of nearly a forty thousand men will start to break. He had to show his lord bannermen that he was still in the fight. Thus, he summoned his riders and sworn swords to his side in battle formation.

He's going to take the fight straight to the center.

"Reform a line! Reform a line!" Jon cried to his one hundred men. His sworn swords moved to his side with weapons at the ready. "Sound the charge." A trumpet was blown. "CHARGE!"

And the small group of a hundred knights galloped into the thick of the battle once more.

* * *

 **Blackwater (Robb Stark)**

Blood. Death. Screams. And cries of pain. Those were the few experiences that Robb Stark faced and endured as he fought his longest battle as of late, his family ancestral sword, Ice, had claimed the lives of nearly sixty three men by the time the enemy lines broke. Grey Wind had remained at his side throughout the duration of the battle, attacking any who dared came close to the Lord of Winterfell, already a hundred men alone had fallen to the jaws of the direwolf. His horse had been cut down by a stray arrow and his left arm was grazed by an enemy sword, yet despite the pain from his fresh wound, he carried on fighting. He had forgotten how many times he had parried the blows from the enemy, dodged spears, ducked from arrows, narrowly getting his head chopped off.

"My lord, look!" Cried Smalljon Umber of Last Hearth. "His Grace has wiped out the enemy archers!"

"Aye, he has." Robb managed to smile despite the pain. "We might have victory by noon...but what is that rumbling noise? Seven hells..." His eyes widened as he mouth fell agape and his smile faded all of a sudden. For another force emerged from the trees taking Ser Loras' rearguard by surprise. "Seven hells! It's an ambush!" He whirled his head right and saw another force of knights from House Payne crashing into undefended flanks of Stannis' household-men. "It's a trap...they knew we were coming..." He could hardly believe his eyes as he watched, traumatized as men fell after men, struck from the back by the additional westerland force.

"By the Old Gods..." Lord Gregor said, horrified at the onslaught behind them. "...they're like locusts!"

Hearing the waning and faltering voices of his lord bannermen, Robb quickly took charge and held Ice tightly in his hands. "Do not falter men! We are men of the North. And northsmen do not run from a fight." He heard the rumble of approval. "With me now! Let's cut down those westron knights and sent them to meet the Stranger that they so believe in!" The men in his vicinity roared, clanging their shields and swords as they followed his charge. "FOR WINTERFELL!" they cried with one voice loud and frightening, and gathering speed like a great tide the northsmen swept across the banks of the Blackwater to meet the mounted westermen in brutal combat.

"Lord Stark...thank the gods you arrived on time..." Stannis spat as he leaned against the pommel of his sword after killing Ser Cedric Payne. "They took us completely by surprise...how did we not anticipate this kind of treachery?!" He growled.

"They must have marched their main force into the center to draw our attention, and once we're engaged they made it look like we're about to win before springing their trap. We had no idea of their plans..." Robb answered, parrying a blow and slashing right to left and right again. His eyes darted downwards until he spotted the crimson patch around the Lord of Dragonstone's leg. "My lord...you're injured. Smalljon, escort Lord Stannis to the rear just in case-!"

"Belay that order!" Stannis barked just as the son of the Greatjon approached. "When Robert raised our banners against the Mad King, I was given the order to hold Storm's End against the Targaryen loyalists. I held the castle as required, and I fulfilled my duty, but Robert gave Storm's End to Renly. I did my duty and received nothing in return but a pathetic post of Master of Ships." He reminisced out loud, ignoring the stabbing pain in his leg. "Now, my own nephew and the true heir is also fighting for the crown...and he gave me command of our household-men, all seven thousand and five hundred of them. And he has promised me lordship over any castles of my choosing. He promised and given me this much despite the war not being won." He sighed before his face turned to fierce but grim determination. "I cannot fail him. I will not fail him. They say you Starks are hard to kill, and I am inclined to believe them. Your father was an honorable man."

"Aye, he was." Robb replied.

"Prove them wrong Lord Stark, lead my men against our enemies. Show them the true might of the north and south combined. Show them what it means to stand with traitors." Stannis said, as he lifted his sword to the level of his eye.

"Together then?" Robb stated, lifting Ice. Stannis gave a firm nod.

With the combined might of both the stormlands and northsmen, the knights of House Payne were easily cut down and killed to the last man. Robb had never relished in this kind of slaughter, but those were his enemies, men who raided the riverlands and stood against the true king. It was his duty as Warden of the North and Lord of Winterfell to deliver swift justice to the brigands and traitors that seek to serve the false king. He heard the loud cheers from the soldiers fighting at the left flank and saw the faltering banners of House Marbrand and the flying banners of the Tyrells. His lips twitched upwards as a smile grazed his face. The ambush had been thwarted, but at the highest of costs.

The cost of blood.

* * *

 **Riverrun (Myrcella Baratheon)**

 _Family. Duty. Honor._ Those were the words of House Tully, and the very words that her brother had taken to heart despite not being born in the halls of Riverrun. It was one of the few traits that made Jon different from other knights and lords she had met throughout her life. Most of the knights she had met during tourneys often boast about the honor and glory they could receive on the field of battle, and some rare cases of duties to their overlord first over everything else. But she had never ever met a knight or a lord that puts family before all else. Jon was the first. Not even the late Lord Eddard could rival that. He was honorable, yes. But honor was what had him killed. It had been four days since the might of the army had left to seek out those that had betrayed her lord grandfather and exterminate them once and for all. Yet, a handful of her household-men still remained at Riverrun to provide extra defense for the riverlords that had went off to fight. Lord Edmure remained as well with firm orders to hold the riverlands and attack only if the enemy threatens the borders. And now the duty of meeting an emissary of the Iron Throne falls to her.

"Who is this emissary that the Queen regent has sent our way?" She inquired from the high chair of House Tully. Arrayed to her left and right was Lord Edmure and Arya respectively. Lady Catelyn sat beside her brother with a stoic expression. Standing at either sides of the tables were various commanders from the stormlands and riverlands. And a small minority present were from the north. The rest are off fighting with Jon.

"Ser Cleos Frey. The eldest son of Emmon Frey and Genna Lannister." The guardsman replied.

"After Lord Walder's death, Lord Stevron pledged Lord Stark his support and that of House Frey. Many of his cousins and uncles rode with us to break the siege of Riverrun, but he chose to fight beneath the lion banner. That makes him a Lannister, not a Frey." Rebuked Robett Glover of Deepwood Motte.

"He arrived under the banner of peace," Myrcella stated firmly in a voice that showed no argument, Robett gave a short bow and resumed his position. She tapped her finger on the table as all eyes turned to her for judgment. She sighed. "Guard. Allow him to enter. Only him. No weapons. His retainers will stay outside. Slay them should they try anything funny." The guard from previously gave a stiff nod. She tilted her head to one of her household-men standing behind her chair. "Double the guards in the dungeons. Kill anyone that comes within range of the _Kingslayer_." She spat the last word out with much distaste.

The doors to the great hall opened to reveal a man with a thin face with a weak chin, and stringy brown hair. He wore covered from body down in mail with a surcoat bearing his personal coat-of-arms; the twin towers of Frey and the golden lion of Lannister, quartered. Behind him stood two members of the Riverrun guard, their hands tightened around the pole-arms of their halberds. He was rumored to be cowardly and not very bright which Myrcella can use to her advantage. The knight came to a halt before the high seat and dipped his head out of respect for the Lord of Riverrun.

"I am sent here on behalf of King Joffrey, the First of His Name, King of the Andals and the First Men and Lord Protector of the Seven Kingdoms." Cleos announced to the jeers and pointed glares from the men surrounding him on both sides of the tables. He gulped nervously and pulled out a scroll. "These are the demands from His Grace." Again there were more mumblings and growls, even Myrcella herself looked ready to run the knight through with her sword. "You are to enter King's Landing unarmed in five days. You are to denounce your claims to the Iron Throne and confess before the sight of gods and men that King Joffrey is the rightful heir, and the one true king. You must also swear fealty to the Iron Throne from this time until the end of time. If you choose to disregard this demand, you will be all named traitors and will die a traitor's death." He finished and cringed when he saw the fierce piercing green eyes staring right back at him, it was as if his soul was taken by the Stranger at this very moment.

Leaning forward, Myrcella continued burning holes into Cleos' head before speaking. "You can take that scroll back to the Red Keep and shove it up Joffrey's arse, and make sure you push it hard, so hard that he screams and flies to the roof." Arya bit her bottom lip to hold back her laughter. Edmure fared much better and managed to remain stoic but the side of his lips twitched upwards a little. There were a few chuckles and nods of approval from the various people present. "Enough of games Ser Cleos. I know you weren't sent here as an envoy of my pathetic excuse of a brother. No. You are here on behalf of the Queen regent. My mother." Cleos' mouth parted in shock. "So you'd best spill what is your true meaning of this visit or I'll have you carted back to King's Landing atop your shield."

"The...the Queen regent wants peace..." Cleos managed to squeak out. "She..wants a stop to this bloody war...she's willing to hear your terms for peace..." He rambled on.

"I'd sooner bent my knee to Daenerys Targaryen." Myrcella spat at the response from the knight. She banged her head on the table before sitting straight up. "Alright. Fine. She wants to hear our terms. I'll give her our terms. Arya, pass me that parchment." She gave everyone a look that literally told them to shut the hell up and let her speak or risk waking up her inner lion as Jon liked to call it. "First, the Lady Sansa must be released and returned to us in return, I'll order the release of Willem and Martyn Lannister. Second, the remains of all those that died in the service of Lord Eddard must be returned, their families then can honor them with proper funerals. Third, the heads of those that betrayed Lord Eddard must be presented to us. Here. At Riverrun. Lastly, Joffrey and the Queen regent must step aside and renounce all claims to the Iron Throne, they will then pledge fealty to the rightful heir of the Iron Throne. My brother, Jon Baratheon, the King of the North, the Trident, the Stormlands, and the Reach. The true heir as dictated by the late King Robert."

"The White Wolf!" Arya roared, her fist in the air as other voices took up the cry. "Jon, Jon, King of Westeros!"

Myrcella tossed the rolled parchment at the knight's feet. "These are the terms. More like our demands. If that oaf of a brother and my mother meets them, I'll give them peace, and their lives. If not," She rose to her feet with her palms pressed on the edge of the table, her eyes blazing with determination. "I'll see their heads on spikes when we take King's Landing." She snarled as roars of approval came from the various men in the hall, Arya included. Catelyn was more reserved but she couldn't agree more.

Ser Cleos had gone pale. "The...the queen shall hear your message, my-Your Highness."

"See that she does," Myrcella said. "You're to ride immediately. No delays." Cleos bowed hastily as he was escorted out. "Then we are done." The assembled knights and commanders bent their knees as she turned to leave. Arya at her heels. Her household-men scrambled ahead to open the door. Edmure followed them out, his sister at his side.

"With all due respect, Your Highness. Cersei Lannister will never consent to trade my daughter for a pair of cousins. It's her brother she'll want, and you know it." Catelyn stated firmly.

"I can't release the Kingslayer, and I never will." Myrcella replied sharply. "Jon would never abide it."

"He will understand."

"We are at war, Lady Stark." Myrcella stated firmly. "Many proud sons of the north and riverlands were killed by the Kingslayer alone during the siege of Riverrun. Lord Tytos' own father was slain by the Kingslayer. I doubt the lord bannermen would see kindly to his release."

"Please mother...put your worries aside for now." Arya begged as she gazed into her mother's blue eyes. "We will free Sansa. I promise you."

"I'll do all I can to ensure the safety of Lady Sansa, Lady Stark." Myrcella said, with a sigh. "If my mother has any sense which I doubt she has, she'll accept the terms. If not, we'll just have to wait until King's Landing fall to our hands. It's only a matter of time. We have three times their number. _Four_! If the Knights of the Vale bestir themselves and march south." She took Catelyn's hands in hers and gazed up into the blue Tully eyes. "I swear to you. We will return your daughter back into your arms, safe and unharmed. But putting that matter aside...Are you certain you will not consent to go back to Winterfell? Your younger sons would be needing the warmth of their mother." It wasn't a question. It was a direct command. Not that she wanted the Stark matriarch gone, but Catelyn had been nothing but a hindrance to Jon's claim to the Iron Throne. And thus the war effort.

"With all due respect, Your Highness. My lord father's health is declining... As his daughter, I am needed here." Catelyn said softly. Myrcella nodded in understanding. "I will return once my lord father's health returns to a stable condition. I have other things to do, Your Highness. I bid you a good night." And with that, the Stark matriarch walked briskly away from the trio.

"I apologize for the actions of my sister, Your Highness." Edmure said with an apologetic look. "She has not been herself ever since Lord Eddard returned dead, and my niece remained a captive. And not to add that our lord father has been confined to his bed ever since the war began. Only the gods know how long he has left in this world before he leaves us for the other side. Fate...has not been kind with our family lately. I pray to the gods that you understand our plight, Your Highness." He added with a bowed head.

"No apologies needed, my lord. I would be too if Jon returned to me dead and Tommen held a captive against his own will and I can't do anything but wait." She swiftly replied before sighing. "Keep an eye on her movements...I hope that she is in a right state of mind. The way she spoke about releasing the Kingslayer...It would be an act of treason against the king. For the love and friendship that we had with the late Lord Eddard, I urge you to look out for her. If she releases the Kingslayer..." She need not say anymore, both Edmure and Arya understood it clearly.

"-all seven hells would break lose." Arya muttered out.

"Aye, we can't let that happen." Edmure agreed wholeheartedly.

The air in the dungeons were cold and dirty. It wasn't as dark as the Black Cells back in the capital city but it was still dark nonetheless, two guardsmen flanked her sides with one holding a torch to light their path towards the only isolated cell, and the only cell that was guarded by nearly fifteen men. Arya walked at her side, her eyes hard and narrowed as they came to a halt. The first guard unlocked the iron doors leading to the cell before stepping aside for Myrcella and Arya to enter, he then followed them in but stayed near the entrance with his hand resting on his blade. Jamie Lannister was at the edge, hands shackled together with strong iron, chains were attached from the shackles to the wall. No man nor beast could escape in this condition. The Kingslayer lifted his head and stared at his visitors with a glum expression.

"You honor me with your presence, my niece." He greeted, before inclining his head to the other girl present as well. "And you, Stark. Or is it Baratheon now." The guard holding the torch growled as he stepped forward in a threatening manner.

"You are speaking to the rightful Queen of Westeros, Kingslayer, you will address her as 'Your Grace'."

"I am flattered, Ser Davos. Truly." Arya said with a tinge of red upon her cheeks. "But I am merely here as an observer for Princess Myrcella. And I am not inclined to mix my word with the likes of him."

"Smart girl." Jaime said, before he noticed the frown on Arya's face. "What's wrong? Don't like being called girl?" He made a face. "Insulted?"

"You insult yourself, Kingslayer." Myrcella spoke as she approached within ten feet of her biological father. "You're chained before a girl. Held captive by a girl's family. Perhaps, you'll be killed by a girl as well." Jaime's smug expression faded to be replaced with absolute fear when Arya grinned wickedly. She stood to her full height as she regarded her _father_. "Stannis Baratheon sent ravens to all the high lords of Westeros. _King_ Joffrey Baratheon is neither a true king nor a true Baratheon. He's your bastard son." She narrowed her eyes as she clenched her fists. "Along with Tommen and I. Don't look so surprised _father_ , I knew all about your nightly activities with mother." She looked to the guards. "Leave us."

Ser Davos hesitated for a brief moment before nodding his head. "We'll be outside, milady."

Arya frowned. "What are you going to do?" She asked as Myrcella unsheathed her sword. "You..you aren't going to kill him, are you? You said it yourself that he was a valuable hostage against the queen."

Myrcella ignored her friend as she showed her inner lion. "The boy, Bran. How did he come to fall from that tower?" She questioned, the edge of her blade pressed firmly against Jaime's neck. "Robb Stark informed me that Bran was an excellent climber, he has never fallen or lose his footing in his entire life of scaling Winterfell's walls." Her eyes turned cold as she pressed the blade until a trickle of blood appeared on the neck. "Unless he was pushed. And he wouldn't be pushed unless he saw something that he shouldn't have seen. Like you and mother."

"H...how did you know?" Jaime inquired, his heart beating faster and faster with the blade at his throat.

"The lock of gold hair was helpful as was the assassin that Baelish sent." Myrcella replied.

"How..." Was all the Kingslayer could mutter.

"I was fostered in Casterly Rock. Trained by Lord Tywin, your own father, in this foolish game that all lords play. I grew up with knights. Not handmaidens. I trained with a sword. Not knitting and making snide remarks to those lowborn. The Spider has his own network of spies. And I have a network of my own." Myrcella gaped for a moment before turning her head sharply towards Arya. "Not a word to Jon or I'll tan your hide." Arya nodded and held her breath. "I know you pushed Bran out of the tower. But I want to know why. Why did you do it? He was just a boy."

"I...I hoped the fall would kill him." Jaime admitted, bowing his head in shame.

"I should break your legs by ordering the men to hurl you down the great steps of Riverrun. But I'm no monster. Unlike you." Myrcella said snidely before removing her blade from his neck. "I urge you to pray, Kingslayer. Who knows what Lord Stark would have in mind when he learns of the truth. The truth behind his little brother's broken form. The truth that his brother's dream of joining the Kingsguard is shattered by the very man that he captured." She added before stalking towards the exit.

"Look to your sins, _father_. For the man who passes the sentence must swing the sword."

Arya gave one last look at the Kingslayer before following suit as the door slammed shut behind her.

* * *

 **Blackwater (Jon Baratheon)**

Blood was everywhere as Jon fought his way into the center of the enemy army, hundreds if not thousands of westermen had fallen to his blade alone. His sworn swords had all fanned out in different directions that it became hard for him to track them down, his household-men had fought valiantly but many had been cut down before breaking the enemy's rearguard. Ghost growled and snarled at his side, killing any who dared raise a sword against his master. Many familiar faces could be seen lying in the dirt or floating in the Blackwater, faces that Jon recalled laughing and singing merrily in the timber halls of Riverrun. There was a knight from his household whom had journeyed with him on his hunting trip, from Storm's End to Harrenhal and to Riverrun, the knight had been there at his side. And yet, that very same knight was lying in a pool of his own blood with nearly sixteen westermen around him, dead. He had seen the decapitated head of Rolph Spicer, and the stricken face of Addam Marbrand as he was cut down by Tyrell lances. He had watched as Stannis finish off the head of House Payne despite being wounded by a spear earlier. He had heard the rallying cries of the northsmen.

The ambush was a surprise. But they had survived the full burnt of the surprise attack and the enemy line was staggering if not breaking by the time the last of the ambushers fled the field with their tails beneath their legs. He had rode hard and traded blows against Ser Amory Lorch, both whom were saddled atop their horses and it made fighting a little harder than usual but thankfully Ghost was there and frightened Amory's horse until the knight crashed to the ground. Jon was about to finish him off when a spear flew right past him and struck Amory through the mouth, he gazed up and saw Tytos riding forward with nearly a hundred men from Hornvale at his side. The two shared a brief nod of understanding before turning their attention to their remaining enemies.

It was almost an even fight about now. The might of the Reach was still at Storm's End as were many of the men from the stormlands sworn to Renly, those that had journeyed with him were those from the crownlands and Stannis' personal knights from Dragonstone. He had brought with him nearly half of his forces to aid the riverlords in ousting the Kingslayer from harassing them, and to put an end to the Mountain's reign of terror and recapture the ancient castle of Harrenhal. All three had been fulfilled, the first being accomplished by his northern allies. Robb had sliced off Jaime Lannister's sword hand from the wrist. Literally. He feared how his grandfather would react to that. But after piecing several pieces together, not forgetting how his grandfather was betrayed by his own bannermen, he knew the Old Lion of the Rock wouldn't have cared about a small maiming. After all, it was just a hand and not a head - in fact - they should be grateful that Robb did not just end Jaime's life there and then. He struck down a billman aiming for his horse and smiled grimly when he heard the call for retreat from the enemy.

Between the stream and the land, there now cowered the proud host of the westerlands, in terror of the king and in terror of the raging water. Vainly they crawled and clambered about the sand, seeking to escape the call of death. There suddenly upon a ridge appeared a rider, clad in steel, shining in the rising sun. Over the low hills the horns were sounding. Behind him, hastening out of the trees, were a thousand men on mounts; their swords and spears were in their hands. Amid them rode a man tall and strong. In his hand flew the banner of the Vale of Arryn. More rallied to his side, carrying different banners of the other knightly houses of the Vale. The horns silenced the clashing of steel below. Both forces halted in their fight to glance towards the horizon where the knightly order of horsemen gathered. And it was at that very moment that the westermen felt fear as they were trapped between two opposing forces, and if they were to run - it would only be death at the hands of nature.

"Behold the knights of the Vale!" Stannis cried. "Fortune smiles upon us!"

Sword aloft, Jon bellowed out. "Give a cry. Cry out for victory!"

"VICTORY!" The men chorused, banging their swords on their shields. The wounded and weak managed to crack a smile despite the pain.

Across the banks charged the king's main forces, battle-hardened and weary but still they ran. Down from the hills leaped Yohn Royce, Lord of Runestone. Out from the trees galloped the Valemen. The Vale of Arryn was upon them, and the terror of their coming filled the enemy with madness. The westermen fell on their faces before the combined strength, the survivors reeled and screamed and cast aside both sword and spear. Like a red tide they fled towards the water only to be rushed down by the fast stream, many drowned with their heavy armor, those that survived fled to King's Landing traumatized - and it was reported that the news of their defeat left the Queen mother in a state of shock that she became ill and has been bedridden ever since. King Joffrey faired better and had the survivors executed for high treason - sowing both discord and hate amongst the ranks of his own bannermen.

So it was that in the light of a fair morning Jon Baratheon and Yohn Royce met upon the green grass beside the Blackwater Rush. There was also Robb son of Eddard, and Stannis Baratheon, and Ser Loras Tyrell of Highgarden, and the lords of the north, stormlands and crownlands. Around them gathered the king's household-men and sworn swords, the Kingsguard were present as well; wonder overcame their joy in victory, and their eyes were turned towards the carnage across the river bank. The bulk of the surviving forces joined ranks with the knights of the Vale, speaking with each other, embracing like brothers while many others cheered in their victory. They had taken the liberty of several hours to carry out the grim task of identifying friend from foe and having the bodies buried before they could become a feast for crows and looters alike. Stannis had suggested that the bodies of their enemy be left strewn across the field as a sign of warning but Jon would have none of it - instead, he ordered the cremation of all enemy troops as a sign of respect for their loyalty to the Iron Throne. A small feat of respect some might say but when word got around, many men from the westerlands would find themselves marching in the name of the one true king.

"You could have come at a better timing, my lord." Jon said, his eyes stern but none can miss his joy at seeing the Vale banners flying proudly beside his own. "The Lady Lysa was firm in her letter to me that the Vale of Arryn would not participate in this petty civil war between two brothers. What changed?"

"Treason, Your Grace. Alas! Treason." Yohn Royce answered with a dip of his head. "We have strong evidence to believe that Lady Lysa poisoned her own husband upon the orders of Littlefinger. They've been collaborating ever since our lord took ill, Lady Lysa wanted to make Baelish the Lord of the Vale to rule in her son's stead until he comes of age."

"Baelish is dead." Ser Garlan spoke, his hair disheveled while a long scar ran across the left side of his cheek. "I stabbed him myself at the Sept of Baelor in King's Landing. I would have reached for somebody else but he was just standing there...he was fairly...surprised when I ran him through."

Amidst the cheers of the victorious men, Jon looked forlorn at the sight of his fallen. "I sent ten thousand men to their graves today." He muttered, loud enough for those near him to hear.

"The bards will sing songs of their sacrifice." Ser Loras commented.

"Aye..." Robb agreed. "...but the dead won't hear 'em."

Jon spurred his horse forward to meet the eyes of his men. "While we celebrate, ten thousand of our brothers lie beneath us. Dying for what they believe in. Dying for a cause worth fighting for." The cheers had died down by now as all eyes focused their attention on him. "We must ensure that their deaths are not in vain. Long have we waited in the shadows of the riverlands while Lady Sansa is held captive by my treacherous brother. I had hoped that he would have surrendered when he learn of how many numbers I have on my side, but alas, he's not one to give up the throne so easily." He turned serious as all leaned forward in anticipation. "The time has come for us to storm the capital city by force. To take back what is rightfully ours!" The men cheered. "Once we bury our slain, we will ride for Sow's Horn and sent word to the riverlords and our other forces still at Riverrun, and to the armies of the Reach at Storm's End. Together as one, we will storm King's Landing and we will not stop until the Red Keep falls!"

"WHITE WOLF!" The Greatjon bellowed at the top of his lungs as other men took up the cheer.

"White Wolf! White Wolf! The King of Westeros!"

* * *

 **Beyond the Wall (Gendry)**

The wind was strong. Stronger than ever before. Stronger than any breeze he had ever seen south of the Wall. How did it come to this. They were fortified and well equipped, nearly three hundred swords strong, the full force of the Night's Watch ever assembled since the time of old. _Death_. He recalled. It smelt like death he had said only for it to fall on death ears by the others apart from a few of his friends and when the wights attacked...they began to panic and all seven hells broke lose. Sam had fled to the east and was lost in the blizzard. Grenn was swinging his sword like a wild beast. Edd was mumbling to himself that he was still asleep in his home at the Vale. And Gendry...he was trying his best to stay alive the best way he knows how. By using torches and fire. The other brothers after witnessing the wights falling to the ground at the bright light from the flames, started to rally behind him and followed his example.

"Where's the Lord Commander?!" He yelled, gazing around for the Old Bear.

"The Old Bear has fallen!" Cried one of the brothers. "You're his steward! You know his plans!"

"I'm just a bloody steward..." He retorted. "I'm a bastard."

"Nay, you're not!" Edd roared, making his way over to him. "You're our brother! And Lord Commander Mormont chose you for a reason. He intends to make you Lord Commander. He said so himself!"

"What are your orders?!" Grenn hissed through the thick blizzard.

"Use fire to fight against the wights if they come as we slowly make our way south." Gendry spoke in a clear and determined voice. "We need to get back to the Wall. It's a long march. We have to make it. Have to warn 'em before winter's done. Or everyone we ever know will be dead." He lifted a torch and began his first step forward. "We stick together! We'll move slowly."

"Aye!"

"SAM!" Edd suddenly recalled the Tarly boy he befriended atop the Wall. "Where's he? SAM!"

"He can't be too far out." Grenn said. "Shall we look for him?"

"As a group." Gendry replied. "I last saw him running eastwards. Everyone! With me!"

Together, the remaining brothers of the three hundred that Jeor Mormont brought with him on the largest ranging expedition slowly marched towards the east in search for their missing brother whom was lost in the storm. Fortunately, Sam did not run that far ahead as he was being chased back by a wight that nearly took his life if it weren't for the swift intervention of Grenn. As the acting Lord Commander, it was Gendry's job to ensure everyone makes it back to Castle Black safely. Under normal circumstances he wouldn't have cursed someone to die but he did nothing to hide the twitch on his lips when he spotted the decapitated head of Karl lying in the snow with eyes wide. He hated that man ever since he first joined the Watch. Inside he was glad that such a monster was dead but he had hoped that he would have been the one to do the job - no man should die at the hands of these abominations. The blizzard ended once they marched for what seemed like an eternity, Gendry counted their numbers and was saddened to learn that only fifty of the three hundred survived the fight at the Fist of the First Men.

"You saw what is coming." Gendry stated the obvious reason to the surviving brothers. "We need to stop fighting with the wildlings and focus on the true enemy. The White Walkers. The Long Night is coming and the dead comes with it. And no one can stop them. The southron kings can't stop them. But only together, it might not be enough but at least we'll give the fuckers a fight to remember. The wildlings we fought spoke of the greatest army ever assembled by a man named Mance Rayder, if we can somehow get to him and force him into a parley. Get him to stand on our side. Not as our enemies but as allies." He watched as each men regarded his words before Edd stood to his feet.

"We're with you, Lord Commander." Edd declared, his fist over his heart as the others followed.

"Aye, you have our support." Grenn confirmed before he frowned. "But what of those at Castle Black. Like Ser Alliser and Slynt? They won't take kindly to us parleying with the wildlings."

"The real war is between the living and the dead." One of the brothers spoke up. "And make no mistake...the dead are coming. Ser Alliser doesn't have that much of a choice. The Watch is filled with eighty brothers at the moment not counting those we lost at the Fist. There are fifty of us here. We can vouch for your ability to lead." He gestured his hand to the others. "You can challenge Ser Alliser's command if you have to. You have twice his number."

"I'll gut his mouth if you want me to!" Yelled another brother.

"The Others take Ser Alliser!" Cried another.

Edd had to grin at that. "Well lad, what are your orders?"

"My orders stand. We must return to Castle Black." Gendry said firmly.

"You heard him! Move your arses!" Grenn roared.

* * *

 **A/N:**

 **I sincerely apologize for not updating sooner. A year has nearly passed since the last update and I deeply ask for forgiveness from those that followed this story for the long wait. I've been busy with real life issues considering family, work and school. I had actually written way past this chapter and onto the climax of the Siege of King's Landing when my CPU went dark. I had to change my whole rig and unfortunately - all the stories that I had written were gone from my hard disk. Therefore I had to rely on my imagination once again to aid in my writing of this story. BUT rest assured - I am currently rewriting what I can for the next chapter for the Siege of King's Landing, and Jon will definitely take the city but with a catch.**


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